


Myosotis

by cloakoflevitation



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Banter, Dark Sides As Family (Sanders Sides), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Gen, Happy Ending, Light Sides As Family (Sanders Sides), Memory Loss, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, No Beta – We Die Like Gabriel, Not Episode: Putting Others First – Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux Compliant, Pockets of Fluff, Post-Episode: Dealing with INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS, tiny nod to the fourth wall in chapter 4 by the author, yeah I write the dark sides with fangs a lot. what about it? I'm gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24581443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloakoflevitation/pseuds/cloakoflevitation
Summary: Myosotis: the scientific name for the flower commonly known as Forget-Me-Not.Virgil loses some memories. He doesn't remember joining the light sides. It makes for some fun and complicated interactions with all the other sides. And then he gets his memories back and has to deal with the consequences of his actions during the time he spent without memories. Happy endings all around!Set post DWIT. It's about Virgil but it's largely about all of them (especially the dark sides).***Warnings: swearing. Virgil has a panic attack towards the end of the first chapter. It’s not graphic.
Comments: 120
Kudos: 280





	1. Accidents Happen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeeCeit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeeCeit/gifts), [TheLittleTrashCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleTrashCat/gifts), [StarStorm21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarStorm21/gifts).



> I've said it before and I'll say it again: comments feed my validation-craving writer's soul. They literally make me cry (in a good way). Special thank-yous to @Beeceit, @TheLittleTrashCat, and @StarStorm21 for leaving comments on some other stuff I've written <3

“This is fine, everything is fine, _totally_ fine,” Roman murmured hysterically.

Virgil pressed a hand to his panting chest, glaring at the side of Roman’s head. _“A walk is just what you need, Virgil. The Imagination is so calming, Virgil. C’mon, it’ll be fun, Virgil,”_ he mimicked Roman’s voice, repeating the things he had said earlier that morning.

Roman threw a warning look over his shoulder at him, before quickly turning back to peek over the edge of the outcropping they were hiding behind. He hissed in retaliation, “Like I was supposed to know the Dragon Witch would show up!”

“You _literally_ control everything here!” Virgil could feel his last shreds of sanity leaving him. “I don’t understand what you don’t get about that!”

“Just – shut up, okay? Stay down. We’ll be fine as long as –” A sharp cry came from the direction they had run from. _As long as she doesn’t find us._ That’s how Roman was going to end his sentence. The irony of the Dragon Witch appearing at that _exact_ moment would have been laughably cliché had Virgil not been hiding from said Dragon Witch at the time. Once he got out of here _(if_ he got out of here), he vowed he would never step foot back in Roman’s stupid kingdom ever again.

The Dragon Witch flew overhead, easily spotting them amongst the sparse scattering of trees. She let out a gleeful shriek and dropped to the ground, not far in front of them, as leaves and branches went flying from the downbeats of her wings.

Roman’s hand tightened around the hilt of his katana. “Stay behind me.”

“What?! No! What are you doing – _Roman!”_

Roman ran at her, leveling his katana towards her underbelly. Her eyes glowed green, and Virgil raised a hand in front of him, trying to squint through the light to see Roman. He took a hesitant step forward, desperately trying to calm his racing heartbeat. He heard Roman shout something that he couldn’t understand and then – 

*

It was dark. And cold. Or he was dark and cold. He wasn’t sure which. Was there a difference? There were murmurs of people and things moving, but they sounded far away. Whispers swam like hazy shadows in his ears. He could feel hands on his shoulders, a touch to his forehead. And then nothing more.

*

Virgil woke to a dim room. He rolled his head over, realizing with a start that he was inches from falling off the sofa. That was strange, considering that he couldn’t remember falling asleep on the sofa. Or being in the living room. Or being in _this_ living room. A sinking, horrible feeling turned in his stomach, but he ignored it.

He sat up slowly, dark spots racing to cloud his vision. Balling his hands into fists, he rubbed his eyes for a moment, letting his vision slowly return. He stood up, taking an inventory of the room as he did. There was a TV. The sofa he had been lying on. A low coffee table. A clock on the wall. There was a colorful painting, but he couldn’t tell what it was supposed to depict.

The lights flicked on, and Virgil squinted against the sudden onslaught of brightness.

“Oh good! You’re awake! How’re ya feeling, kiddo?”

Virgil turned to find another side, dressed in light blue and wearing glasses, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He was smiling, beaming really, and the cardigan tied around his shoulders only added to his utterly ridiculous appearance.

Morality was a strong contender for his least favorite side.

He slowly looked around, not understanding what was going on. After an awkward moment of silence, with Morality waiting expectantly, Virgil finally managed to get out a strangled, _“What?”_

Morality laughed. “Poor thing. Roman–” _Roman?_ “–said the Dragon Witch did quite a number on you. But him and Logan–” _Logan?_ “–will be glad you’re awake. They’ve been worrying themselves sick about you, not that either of them will admit to it.” Morality chuckled, still smiling like a loon. He took a step toward Virgil, who tensed immediately. “Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll make you something to eat.”

There were loud footsteps and then another side came down the stairs, this one dressed in stark white and deep reds and golds. The katana that hung at his waist set Virgil’s teeth on edge. If Morality wasn’t his least favorite side, then it was most certainly the light half of Creativity.

“Is he awake?” Wide eyes met his own, then Creativity threw his hand across his face like an character in a Victorian-era novel who had gotten the vapors. “Oh thank the Norns! Logan was convinced something _truly_ terrible might have happened to you.”

And there was that name again. _Logan._

The uneasy feeling Virgil first had upon waking had now blossomed into full-blown panic. Somehow, he had ended up in the light half of the Mindscape with the _light sides._ It was his worst nightmare (or one of them anyway, he had a lot). He had no idea what the light sides wanted with him, but he was sure it was nothing good.

Just as soon as this new side – Creativity – had appeared, yet _another_ one, the last one, came down the stairs. This one had glasses like Morality and was dressed in dark blue with a matching tie. It was obvious who it was, by either the dapper appearance or simple process of elimination. Virgil had run into the light sides enough times to guess well enough which side’s appearance went with which title. The handful of times he had spoken with them were _not_ moments he reflected fondly upon.

Logic’s gaze seemed to take in every inch of him with an intense scrutiny that made Virgil’s skin crawl. “Are you well?”

It was a horrifyingly disconcerting feeling to have one of the light sides ask him something as trivial as _how are you._ Virgil opened his mouth and closed it again. There were so many things he wanted to ask, but he had no idea where to even think about starting.

He felt very lost and alone.

Morality had wandered off into the kitchen at some point and was back now, holding a bowl of cereal and a mug that had a cartoon cat on it. “Why don’t we all sit down, and Logan can check you over, hmm?”

They were all looking at him, waiting, faintly concerned but not overly, as if they did this sort of thing all the time. As if they sat down together all the time. As if they _talked_ to each other all the time. It snapped Virgil out of his shocked stupor. He let a scowl spread across his face, trying to draw up enough courage to put on a scary façade. “What the _fuck_ is going on?”

“Language,” Morality instantly chided. Frowns etched themselves onto the faces of Logic and Creativity.

When nothing else happened, Virgil demanded, “Cut the crap, I’m serious. Why did you take me? Why are you giving me cereal? What _happened_ to me?”

Creativity crossed his arms and sighed loudly. _“I know_ you’re mad about the Dragon Witch attack, but _honestly,_ Virgil, I didn’t know she would be in the foothills behind the town. I’m sorry, okay?”

His mind spiraled into static. He stumbled back a step, as if pushed by an invisible force, and swallowed hard. “How do you know my name?” His voice was so quiet and hoarse, he was surprised the others could hear him at all.

“Virgil, what –”

**“DON’T CALL ME THAT!”**

Morality dropped the bowl and the mug, and both shattered on the tile floor. Shards of ceramic littered the ground in a haphazard circle around his feet.

“Stay still,” Logic instructed him quietly.

Morality gave a tight nod. There was a fine tremble in his bottom lip.

“I’m going to get a broom–”

“No one is going anywhere!” Virgil demanded shrilly, trying and failing to keep a lid on his panic. “What do you _want_ from me? Why am I here?”

Logic started speaking at the same time that Morality started blubbering, but it was Creativity that won Virgil’s attention. Creativity took a few steps towards him, only to freeze when Virgil took matching steps backward. Shadows crept from the corners of the room to form a scythe in his hand, which he pointed in Creativity’s general direction. “Don’t. Move.”

Everyone was deathly silent.

Virgil’s eye caught on his own outstretched hand, the one holding the scythe. He slowly followed his wrist up his arm and then down the front of him. He was wearing a jacket, which wouldn’t be unusual, except that it was _purple._ He _always_ wore black.

A sob threatened to climb out of his throat, but he resolutely squashed it back down. He had no idea what was going on, but there was no way in hell he was going to have a meltdown about it in front of the light sides. If he showed them any weakness, he had no doubt that they would exploit it.

Valiantly, he kept the tremor in his fingers from entering his voice. “Someone start explaining. Now.”

Logic raised both his hands up, palms facing Virgil in what was probably meant to be a placating gesture. It only made Virgil angrier. “Anxiety…” Logic said slowly, like he was testing the name.

Virgil narrowed his eyes in response.

“Do you remember us?”

“Of course I remember you,” Virgil snarled, confused and angry and _scared._ “How could I forget the _golden trio?”_ He spat the nickname out mockingly.

Creativity stiffened. “Do _not_ use Harry Potter against me.”

Logic shot Creativity a sharp look, and Creativity ducked his head. Logic cleared his throat and asked, “Do you remember when you told us your name?”

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. “I would _never_ do that.”

Morality made a wounded noise. “Kiddo, something’s wrong. You don’t–”

“What’s wrong,” Virgil spoke over him, “is that you’ve dragged me to your half of the Mindscape. And if someone doesn’t tell me why in the next five seconds, I swear–”

Creativity pleaded with him, “This _is_ your half! We haven’t brought you anywhere!”

Logic cut in, “Technically, you _did_ bring him out of the Imagination…”

“Enough!” Virgil felt like pulling his hair out. “Stop lying to me!”

The three light sides exchanged pointed looks, having some kind of conversation that Virgil couldn’t understand. Finally, Logic pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “We need to tell him. Roman.”

Creativity chewed on his bottom lip for a minute. “We were in the Imagination…” he began haltingly, casting nervous glances towards Virgil, only to look away as soon as their eyes met. “We were just walking… but the Dragon Witch found us. And we were running away… and then I was fighting her…” His voice dropped to a whisper as he finished, “…and I don’t know what she did to you.”

“You’re supposed to be the half of Creativity that keeps your creations _under control.”_ Virgil couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But it didn’t matter; he was halfway convinced it was a lie anyway. There was no way in hell he believed that he was out gallivanting around in the Imagination with _this_ Creativity.

“It’s not that simple!” Creativity complained. “The Dragon Witch –” He huffed in frustration, opening and closing his fists, shoulders hunched up. “I’m going to fix you. _I promise.”_ Creativity’s gaze found Virgil’s, and the intensity, the sincerity scared him. Especially because he didn’t _need_ to be fixed.

Morality bravely wiped his cheeks and sniffled, before promptly bursting into tears all over again. Logic offered him a stiff arm, and Morality quickly attached himself to his side.

“Look.” Virgil roughly dragged a hand through this hair with the hand not holding his scythe. He could feel his hair sticking up, falling in all the wrong places, so he shook his head a little to resettle it. “I don’t know what you were trying to accomplish by pulling this stunt, but I’m _done._ Do NOT try this shit again. Got it?” He bared his teeth in the parody of a smile, curving his lips just enough for his fangs to peek out.

“Kiddo–”

Morality took a step towards him, and Virgil swung his scythe through the air in an arc, leveling it at him. “I mean it, _Bubbles._ Back the fuck off.”

There was a strange noise, and then Creativity was coughing in a way that sounded suspiciously like crying. Morality was _actually_ crying, and Logic kept starting to ask a question but never quite got it out.

With one last pointed warning look, Virgil disappeared.

*

The familiar common area of the dark side helped calm Virgil’s lingering nerves. He took a few steps backward until he felt the wall press against his back. He let the back of his head hit the wall and looked up at the ceiling for answers that weren’t there.

_That was so weird._

Someone cleared their throat.

Virgil pushed himself off the wall, standing rigidly straight until he saw a familiar figure sitting in an armchair across the room. He let out a shaky breath. “You scared me.”

“I could say the same of you.”

“Sorry.” Virgil winced. “The weirdest thing just happened. You’ll never believe where I was.”

Instead of asking what the weird thing was or where Virgil had come from, Janus slowly stood from the chair. “Now there’s something I haven’t seen in a long time.”

It took Virgil a second to realize what he meant. He looked down to see he was still holding his scythe. “This thing?” When he looked back up again, Janus was holding a knife. Hurriedly, Virgil looked over his shoulder, around the corner to the kitchen. _Where’s the danger?_ After a long moment, he turned back, face scrunched in confusion. “What’s with the knife?”

Janus narrowed his eyes. “What’s with the scythe?”

“Dude.” Virgil let go of the scythe, allowing the shadows to scatter to the corners of the room. “It’s just me. Chill.”

Janus’s expression smoothed out into something unreadable. He stepped closer and closer to Virgil, eyes locked on his face the whole time. “Perhaps you should explain.”

“It was horrible.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, digging his fingers into his palms. “They kidnapped me. I have no idea what they wanted. They kept talking about the Dragon Witch and – somehow they knew my _name.”_

That made Janus pause mid-step. Some kind of calculation happened behind his eyes, and then he kept walking towards Virgil’s side of the room, slowly, like he thought Virgil was some kind of wild animal. However, he did slide his knife into a pocket somewhere in his cape. “What do you mean, _they?”_

Virgil blinked. This felt like a kind of sick game. “The light sides?”

Janus pressed his lips together, the way he did when he was frustrated. “…How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Telling the truth.”

Confused, Virgil waited for the rest of the explanation. He didn’t understand what Janus was asking.

Janus was close now, close enough to touch. His gaze flicked back and forth between Virgil’s eyes, and then he gasped, quietly. “Your eyes…”

Virgil’s hands came up to touch the skin beneath his eyes and he belatedly worried about his eyeshadow there. “What about them?”

“…Can I?”

“Of course.” Virgil nodded, no hesitation. Of course Janus could do what he wanted. Of course Virgil trusted him.

Janus’s eyes went wide and startlingly vulnerable. Carefully, oh so slowly, he brought a hand up to Virgil’s chin, gently tilting his face, worriedly looking into his eyes at something Virgil couldn’t see. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Janus whispered in disbelief. Then he shook his head, and the vulnerable look was gone. He scowled. “Of course you are. The Dragon Witch…” Just as soon as the weird moment had started, it was over. Janus’s expression closed off into cool disinterest. He moved to stand at a more conservative distance, not meeting Virgil’s questioning gaze.

“So, um. Kinda panicking over here.”

Janus looked at him. Looked away. Cleared his throat. Looked back again. “There’s red. In your eyes.” He cleared his throat again. “From the Dragon Witch, I would assume, from what you’ve said.”

 _That fucker._ Virgil was going to _kill_ the prince. Him _and_ his stupid Dragon Witch.

“Okay.” Virgil winced at how his voice sounded. “Okay, so what do we do?” He went to the mirror on the wall down the hallway. He leaned forward, inspecting his eyes. They were, unfortunately, clouded by a telltale deep red. “What’s wrong with me? What do you think he did?” Janus followed him, standing just over Virgil’s shoulder; he could see him in the mirror. Virgil traced his arms, his stomach, his sides, his thighs, anywhere he could reach. All body parts accounted for. Only his eyes seemed different.

When he was done inspecting himself, another color caught his attention. He fingered the purple patches on his jacket, still unsure whose clothes he was wearing and why. “I just don’t get it,” he said quietly. “What did they want with me? And why the clothes?”

Janus hummed a noise that sounded like a question.

Virgil turned to face him. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.” He gestured to his new attire, then changed it back to his regular all-black with a snap.

Realization lit Janus’s face. “What… do you remember,” he asked slowly, and Virgil had the creeping suspicion that Janus knew more than he did.

“Earlier? With the light sides?”

“No, no. Before today. What do you remember?”

“Yesterday?” Virgil looked up at the ceiling, eyes tracing invisible lines as he tried to think. “I dunno. Must have stayed in bed all day.” He kept thinking. What _did_ he remember? “Oh!” He grinned. “Me and Remus watched those flat earth videos.” He frowned. “Either last night or the night before. I think.”

Janus swore under his breath.

“Janus?”

“Don’t,” he snarled, then seemed to catch himself, frowning like he regretted it. He didn’t say anything more.

It was funny, because he reacted almost the same way Virgil did when the light sides had used his name. And Virgil didn’t know what to do about that. He opened his mouth and then closed it. Emotion was building deep in his chest, but he didn’t want to cry. Not here, not now. He needed answers.

“Virgil.” A new voice pulled his attention from Janus to Remus, who had walked up behind him. “You haven’t wasted the night watching videos with me in a long time.”

He couldn’t breathe. “What do you mean?” He was terrified of the answer.

Remus looked to Janus, before doing a double take back to Virgil. His eyes went wide and then narrowed as he stepped into Virgil’s personal space and grabbed his face. Turning him left and right, Remus leaned closer, squinting at Virgil’s eyes. “My brother did this.”

He let him go, and Virgil went to the mirror again, as if looking at the red in his eyes would somehow help the situation any. They still looked the same as they had when he looked the first time.

A note of concern entered Janus’s voice as he corrected, “Roman’s _Dragon Witch_ did this.”

“Yeah,” Remus dismissed him. “But _Roman_ still caused it.”

Janus’s voice fell quieter. “I don’t think _Virgil_ knows Roman didn’t intend to do this.”

That didn’t make sense to Virgil. It didn’t sound like they were joking, but they had to be, with what they were saying. There was no way Creativity just happened to accidentally curse him with… whatever he had done. There was no way the Dragon Witch attack was an accident.

“I haven’t noticed anything off, besides my eyes, but it might not have happened yet. I don’t know what he did exactly.” He waited. “So, can you fix me?” No one said anything. Virgil raised his eyebrows. “Rem?”

Remus opened his mouth in a silent _oh,_ looking at Janus for a minute. He brought a hand up to run across his bottom lip, nodding slightly to himself. “Just a sec.” Then he was gone. Probably to the Imagination, if Virgil had to guess. Maybe doing some research, asking some questions, tracking down the Dragon Witch.

Janus swore softly under his breath, so low Virgil almost didn’t hear it.

“Hey, I’m sure Remus will figure this out. Okay?”

Janus looked at him with a strange, trembling emotion. It was almost as if he didn’t believe Virgil. “I…” Virgil was pulled into a quick, tight hug, and then released just as suddenly. “I’ve missed you,” Janus said quietly.

“I’ve missed you too?”

Janus laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. He shook his head. “No, you really haven’t.”

Not knowing what to say to that, Virgil frowned and said, “It’s gonna be okay, alright? We’ll figure this out.” He didn’t understand why Janus seemed so upset – he seemed even more worried about all of this than him, and Virgil was the one with who knows what kind of curse on him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Janus admitted, and it sounded like propitiation. Gloved hands scrunched into fists. “But… you’re not… _you._ You know that… don’t you?”

Virgil let off a breath that ruffled his bangs. “Things…” he admitted slowly, with a little shake of his head, “Things aren’t…” He let the words die in his throat, unsure what he was going to say in the first place. The odd way Janus had first acted towards him worried at his mind like a thorn in his side. That business with the knife… Janus had seemed genuinely afraid of him when he had still been holding the scythe. His mouth twisted into a frown. There was one thing that was rapidly becoming clear, and it was terribly confusingly _wrong._ He injected enough humor into his voice so it only sounded halfway like an accusation when he said, _“You_ don’t trust me.”

Janus let out a long breath. He half-grinned for a second, wry and quick, there and gone again before Virgil could blink. “You don’t trust me anymore either.”

They both stared at each other for a moment.

The word ‘anymore’ hung like the sound of a death toll in Virgil’s ears. It meant something had changed. They _had_ trusted each other. It was the way things _should_ be, but, apparently, it was not the way things were. Which was a bit strange and horrifying, because Virgil was very sure that he himself still trusted Janus.

He pressed his lips together. He took a breath. Janus was watching him like a hawk, as if he could tell what Virgil was thinking. Slowly, he pieced together the words he wanted to say, trying to test the waters against his fears. “What did I do?” Because that was the only explanation. Somehow, Virgil must have said something, done something, and now Janus no longer trusted him. The only problem: he had no idea what that thing was.

Janus took in a deep breath and let it out, as if he was stalling to give an answer. He looked at Virgil with a hollowness in his eyes, and Virgil was struck by the thought that he had no idea who the side staring back at him was at all.

Fear reached a hand around Virgil’s heart and squeezed. A moment from earlier suddenly slotted into place in his mind, like a key puzzle piece revealing the bigger picture. “I said your name. Earlier, I said your name, and it made you _mad._ Why?” Janus took a step forward and Virgil took one back. _“Who are you?”_

_Am I sleeping? Is this a nightmare? Or one of Remus’s pranks gone wrong?_

Remus reappeared, and Virgil turned with wild eyes to demand, “Who are _you?_ Are you really Remus?”

Crossing his arms with a frown, something that looked like pity settled on Remus’s face. “I’m still me. But you, unfortunately, are not you.”

On some level, he had known something was wrong. He could feel it, could sense it instinctively. But knowing and _knowing_ were two different things, and this new realization momentarily took his breath away. He pressed a hand to his mouth, choking back a sob. The sound of his heartbeat in his ears was drowned out only by his racing thoughts. He couldn’t manage more than a confused noise.

Remus’s expression softened. “You’re missing memories. You’ve lost time.”

“How long?”

“Virgil…” Janus’s voice was a warning, and Virgil knew he wouldn’t like the answer. But he had to know.

_“How long?!”_

Remus was carefully studying the floor. “Months.” Something twitched in his face, like he was hurt. “But it’s felt like an eternity.”

 _Oh._ He squeezed his eyes shut, privately hoping when he opened them again, everything would be okay. But instead, all he saw was Janus and Remus, and both looked utterly miserable. Virgil didn’t know what to do, so he croaked out, “I’m sorry.”

Somehow, that seemed to make things worse, because Janus glowered and said, “Don’t say that.”

Virgil pulled his hood up over his head.

“Not helping,” Remus shot at Janus before taking a few steps towards Virgil. “Look. You left. You joined up with the others.”

 _“No._ I wouldn’t.”

“Well, you did. You must have had some kind of accident with Roman in his half of the Imagination. They’re all probably worried about you, especially since you came over here.”

Desperately, Virgil turned to Janus, hoping he would be laughing, and this would all be one big joke. One big lie.

Janus wasn’t laughing. He sighed heavily.

Virgil took a step back, eyes flicking back and forth between the others. “You can’t send me back. Don’t send me back to them!”

Anger flashed across Remus’s face. “Why not? You chose them.” Virgil heard the words that he didn’t say: _you chose them over us._

“I don’t know why – I don’t know _how_ I could –” _How could I leave you?_

Janus flinched. “Don’t.”

“But I won’t leave –”

_“Don’t!”_

Virgil froze, letting the rest of his words dissolve in his mouth.

Janus pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. Don’t say things you’ll regret when – when we fix this.”

“I don’t _want_ to fix anything! There’s nothing to fix!”

“You don’t know what you lost! They accepted you! If you could remember–” Janus cut himself off, and the outrage bled out of his voice. Shoulders slumping, he quietly repeated, “If you could remember, you wouldn’t want to be here right now.” _You wouldn’t want to be with us._

“I don’t understand –” He took a step towards him, only to freeze when Janus flinched back. Something inside him shattered. He whispered, “Why did you do that?” Ice ran through his veins. “Would I – would I have _hurt_ you?”

“Yes. _No._ I don’t –” Janus shook his head, and Virgil could tell he was losing his grip on lies and the truth.

He turned to plead with Remus, “Tell me I wouldn’t have hurt him. Tell me I haven’t fallen that far.”

Remus looked at him hard for a long moment, before he finally confirmed, “You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” Virgil repeated to Janus, although it didn’t help to ease his conscience any. “I would _never,_ I swear it.” His eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to show his sincerity.

Sadness, laced with a darker, venomous undercurrent of fear, ran through his head. _This shouldn’t be possible._ The idea of him leaving – and joining the light sides, no less – should be impossible. Unthinkable. Inconceivable. There were no series of events that should lead him to make that kind of decision. So the fact that somehow he had gone and done exactly that was terrifying beyond belief. How he could change from himself, from who he was now, in this moment… He had the creeping suspicion if he had met this other version of himself, the Virgil that Janus and Remus were clearly expecting him to be, he wouldn’t like himself much at all.

 _What happened to me?_ Then a worse thought: what had happened to Janus and Remus? What had he done to them? What horrible things did they remember about this other monstrous version of himself?

Something hit his knees. Later he would realize it was the floor. He felt hot and dizzy and _wrong_ and he wasn’t sure if he was breathing anymore and what if he was dying or what he lost _more_ memories or what if–

Something warm wrapped around him. But this was better than the suffocating heat pressing down on his lungs and swimming behind his eyes. Someone was holding him. They smelled like fire and paint, which wasn’t a particularly pleasant smell, but it was comforting all the same.

“Tighter?”

Virgil couldn’t say anything. He thought maybe he was crying. The person hugged him tighter anyway.

There were voices, but they weren’t directed at him, so he couldn’t bring himself to listen. Words were spoken with clipped concern in quiet volumes. Eyes squeezed shut, he tried his best to fold himself up into nothing.

It felt like an eternity before he was a person again. Had he not been so exhausted, he might have felt embarrassed. Instead, all he wanted to do was sleep for a week or two.

“Alright,” he heard Remus say. “Up we go.” He felt Remus let go of him and stand up. There were hands on his shoulders and then arms under his, hauling him up to his feet, and he found himself suddenly face to face with Remus.

He felt tears well up in his eyes again and mentally cursed everything he could think of. He tried his best to grin and offered Remus a watery smile. “Hey.”

Remus laughed, a relieved and trembling sound with a tenderness that normally wasn’t there. It was the sort of laughter someone might give when a child took a tumble after taking steps on uncoordinated, chubby legs. Remus was trying and failing to keep the feelings from his face. “There you are.”

Virgil looked to Janus, who was watching them with some unnameable emotion hiding in his eyes.

Suddenly Remus’s back was pressed against his front, and he felt Remus grab his wrists and pull them over his shoulders. “I’m picking you up,” Remus announced, and sure enough, in the next moment Virgil was clinging to Remus’s back in a desperate attempt not to fall.

Remus stumbled a step, and Janus rushed to help stabilize them. Virgil couldn’t help but wonder how long ago it had been (for Remus anyway) since he had last given him a piggyback ride.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” Remus readjusted his grip on Virgil’s legs, making an exaggerated choking sound to remind Virgil not to hold so tight around his neck. He started taking slow, heavy steps forward. “Alright, where to?”

“My room.” Remus froze, but not because of Virgil’s weight. After a moment, Virgil realized his mistake. “Ah. My room’s not in this half anymore… is it.”

It hadn’t been a question, but Janus quietly confirmed anyway, “It’s not.”

Remus started walking again, carrying Virgil and leading Janus down the hallway towards their rooms. “That’s alright,” he said brightly. “I’ll conjure up a room for you.”

Virgil chewed on his bottom lip and tried not to have a panic attack about the fact that his room was stuck on the light side.

“We’ll fix this,” Janus said somberly. Virgil believed him.

Before Virgil could drop to his feet with some semblance of dignity, Remus abruptly let go of his legs, hands coming up to pry Virgil’s arms from around his neck. Virgil landed on the ground, slightly surprised, but somehow standing. Remus gave Janus a glare. “We’re not giving him back to them.”

“He might want to go.”

“He doesn’t!” Remus shot back, at the same time that Virgil insisted, “I don’t!”

Janus looked between the two of them for a moment and then gave them an annoyed look. But as he turned away, Virgil saw him smirk and roll his eyes.

Walking past his own door, Remus stood in front of a blank stretch of the hallway and placed his hands flat on the wall. He closed his eyes, concentrating, and after a few moments, a door materialized. Bracing himself, he slowly pushed off the wall. “Woah.” He blinked a few times, and Virgil grabbed his arm, worried he was going to fall. “Takes a bit out of me, I guess.”

Janus pulled a pocket watch out of one of his pockets. He pressed the button at the top with his thumb, letting the face plate pop open. “It’s late enough.” He closed the watched and returned it to the abyss of his pockets. “You should both get to bed. A lot has happened.”

Remus yawned.

Virgil tentatively put a hand on the doorframe of his new room. “I’ll uh, see you tomorrow?”

The edge of Janus’s mouth quirked up as if he couldn’t help it. He nodded.

Virgil pushed open the door, hearing from behind him, “Remus, a word?” He ignored the two of them and switched on the lights. The ceiling fan started to spin, and the lights turned on. There was a bed, pushed into the far corner of the room. The pillows were black, and the comforter was a striped pattern of dark purples and black. There was a window on one wall, near the bed, draped in black curtains. A floor lamp stood next to a desk along another wall. The purple lamp shade threw purple light onto the ceiling and walls. There was a bookcase next to the desk, although all the shelves were empty. There was also a chest of drawers, but Virgil suspected it was also empty.

He walked across the room, inspecting everything as he went. As he sat on the bed, his eyes caught the purple stripes. Remembering the strange purple-black jacket he had been wearing before he changed back into his regular black clothes, he decided the other Virgil must like purple.

Pulling the comforter and sheets out from under the pillows, he realized the sheets were black, matching the pillows. It made him feel slightly better. It reminded him of his old room, the one he remembered, not whatever might be in ‘his’ room that was currently in the light half.

He shrugged his arms out of his jacket, only to realize he didn’t have any pajamas. A search of the drawers of the chest revealed nothing.

He stuck his head out the door of his room, seeing Janus’s door open across the hall. He could hear the other two talking, but when he stepped into the doorway, they abruptly stopped with sheepish, caught expressions. Virgil rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and stepped further into Janus’s room. “Uhh… I just wondered if I could borrow some pajamas?”

Janus tilted his head, eyebrows scrunched together. “You can summon clothes?”

His cheeks flamed. “Oh. Uh. Right. Yeah, I can do that. Nevermind.”

Before Virgil could stop him, Remus grinned and waved a hand in his general direction. “Nah, I got you.”

Virgil looked down to see he was now dressed in a black crop top and booty shorts. The shirt read, _I’m gonna keep getting underneath you_ followed by a smirk emoji. Recognizing the Panic! At The Disco lyric, he leveled an unimpressed look at Remus.

Janus looked like he was trying not to laugh, but Remus clapped his hands and made a happy noise. He held up a finger and spun it in little circles in the air. “Turn, turn!” Virgil rolled his eyes and Remus pouted, so Virgil tossed up his hands and sighed, but humored him. When he faced the other direction, he heard laughter and then Janus elaborated, “Your back reads, _the good, the bad, and…”_ There were more snickers and then Remus finished, “Your ass says _the dirty.”_

“Remus!” Virgil squawked, feeling himself blush. He snapped his fingers and his shorts changed into black pants patterned with tiny Haunter Pokémon and his shirt changed into a full length t-shirt with Haunter’s eyes and mouth across the front. Virgil flipped Remus off and left with a, “Thanks for nothing!” yelled over his shoulder.

Back in his room, when he finally stretched out in bed, it hit him how completely exhausted he was. His limbs seemed to sink into the mattress. In the few minutes before he succumbed to sleep, his brain started to connect dots between Haunter, himself, and the color purple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a hard time writing Remus because he is pretty rated R and I am _very_ rated G. But I try my best to imply things and write things in a way that I'm comfortable with that is still (somewhat) true to his character ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> All the chapters have been written! There will be four! I'll post the next one next Saturday (in a week).


	2. Spot the Aladdin Reference ("Do you trust me?")

At some point in the night, Virgil woke up. It wasn’t uncommon. Being Anxiety, getting a good night’s sleep was fairly rare. He laid still, eyes closed, trying to will himself back to sleep. Maybe if he didn’t move and didn’t think about anything, he could convince his mind to fall back into unconsciousness.

After about three minutes, he gave up.

Perhaps some water could help.

As he started to pull the covers off him, he discovered an odd shape at the end of his bed. He sat up, watching the unmoving lump, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. Eventually, he could just make out what – or who, rather – it was. Remus was curled up at the foot of his bed, one arm clutching a pillow, half laying under a blanket, one leg sticking out. His face was pressed against the comforter, mouth slightly open.

Virgil shook his head fondly and started to get out of bed, only to quickly jerk his feet back up onto the mattress. Peering over the side, he saw Janus laying on the floor. His face was scrunched, slightly frowning, hands holding his blanket tight up around his shoulders. A snake stuffed animal was curled under his head.

Feeling a laugh bubbling up, Virgil put a hand to his mouth to muffle the noise. He didn’t want to wake them. Shifting his weight slowly off the bed so as not to wake Remus, he carefully set his feet on the ground and tiptoed around Janus. When he finally snuck out into the hallway, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. _Those two idiots…_

His body took him on autopilot into the kitchen, hands finding a glass and running some water from the faucet into it.

Truth be told, he had never taken Janus or Remus for the sentimental type, but then, he bitterly remembered that _this_ Janus and _this_ Remus weren’t the same as the ones he remembered. These two had experienced things Virgil had forgotten. They were used to this other reality, the one where Virgil had apparently lost his mind and joined –

He nearly dropped the glass in his hand, choking on the water in his throat. He set the glass down and braced a hand on the counter, leaning over slightly as he continued to cough. His eyes started to water.

 _Of course_ they were in his room. To them, he had been _gone._ And now he was back. Return of the prodigal Virgil. Dimly, he remembered the day before, remembered hugs and smiles and raw emotion, remembered Janus saying, _I missed you,_ remembered Remus saying, _We’re not giving him back._ No wonder they crept into his room to sleep. They just wanted to keep him _close._ They wanted reassurance that he was _here._

Suddenly, finding Janus and Remus sleeping in his room didn’t seem amusing anymore.

When he went back to his room, despite knowing he would get too warm and would probably be woken by snores, he curled up next to Remus. Some things were worth the sacrifice.

*

Yelling woke him. Loud footsteps echoed in the hallway, and then his door was thrown open to reveal a frazzled Janus. “You have visitors,” he bit out, looking back over his shoulder, as if he expected that someone was following him.

Confusion clouded Virgil's mind for a second before he realized Janus meant the light sides. He sneered, “I don’t want to see them.”

“I won’t make you," Janus sighed, "but they’re insistent. They’ll only get worse if you don’t prove to them that you’re alive and unharmed.”

Weird feelings swirled in the pit of Virgil’s stomach. The idea that the light sides would be worried about him made him uncomfortable. It was _wrong._ They didn’t care about him. It’s not who they were. But he wanted them gone, and they wouldn't leave unless they saw him. He groaned loudly, for Janus’s benefit, and threw off the blanket tucked around him. “Alright, I’m coming.”

Janus left in a swirl of cape and an air of superiority.

 _What a fucking dork._ Fondness softened his frustration at being woken up.

The yelling only grew louder as he walked down the hallway towards the common area. Creativity, standing with his hands on his hips, all pomp and pretentiousness, was in a shouting match with Remus, who had his arms crossed, weight leaned back mostly on one leg.

Morality was hovering just over Creativity’s shoulder, looking worriedly between them both. Logic was the first to notice Virgil had appeared. “Salutations, V–Anxiety.” Morality’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. He started to run towards Virgil, only to be smoothly stopped by Logic’s arm across his chest. “Patton…” Logic chided quietly. Morality’s face fell.

“Virgil!” Creativity exclaimed, only to throw a hand over his mouth when Virgil gave him a dirty look. “I mean, uh, Anxiety! I was so worried for your safety and well-being!” He made a face at Remus. “Who knows what my dastardly brother might have done to you.”

Remembering Remus’s excessive cuddling in his sleep, Virgil felt his cheeks flush slightly. He shot a look at Janus, totally unprepared to deal with the light sides and their weird partiality towards him. He just wanted them gone.

Morality looked like he was vibrating with restrained joy. “Are those your pajamas?”

This was slightly more comfortable territory. Crossing his arms and leveling a glare at the others, he grumbled, “Yeah, _someone_ woke me up.”

Logic frowned. “It is two in the afternoon.”

“And?”

Morality elbowed Logic, shaking his head slightly. Then he turned back to Virgil. “We’re worried about you, kiddo,” he said gently, his voice losing some of the overwhelming happiness it normally had. “The Dragon Witch messed with your head. We just wanna help.”

“Yeah, thanks, but no thanks. Help from _you_ is the last thing I want.”

Morality flinched as if Virgil had struck him. He wrapped his arms around his stomach in a self-hug.

“You don’t understand,” Creativity accused him, confusion and anger splashed across his face. _“We_ are your friends. Let us help you!”

Before Virgil could say anything, Remus stepped in front of him, one hand held out to his side, as if protecting Virgil from the others. “No! You can’t have him.”

No one said anything for a second. Then Logic cleared his throat. “I don’t know if you are aware,” he began cautiously, “but you seem to have forgotten significant events from –”

“You joined us,” Morality cut in, pleading with him. “You’re our friend and we care about you and you belong with us! We waited and waited for you to come to your room last night and you never did! We were so worried!”

“Virgil…” Creativity said his name like it was a prayer. “This is all my fault. _Please_ let me fix it.”

Janus cast a worried glance in his direction, and Virgil couldn’t help but laugh. “No. Are you insane? No way!” He stepped around Remus, standing at his side instead of behind him. _“These_ are my friends. These are the people that care about me.”

“You don’t understand! We –”

“You what?” he rudely cut Creativity off, feeling spiteful at their repeated attempts to persuade him. “You accepted me? You let me into your perfect little lives? I don’t care!” He looked between the three of them, making sure they felt the weight of his stare. “I’m not whoever you think I am. I don’t remember what bullshit this other me pulled, but I will _not_ be making the same mistakes. So give up, get over it, and get out.”

Morality burst into tears and sunk out.

Anger burned in Creativity’s eyes. “They’re not your friends! You might think they are, but they’re not!” He smiled cruelly, nursing hurt feelings. “Did they tell you? Thomas _accepted_ you.”

All the air left Virgil’s lungs. Something seized inside his chest, making him feel hot and cold and small and _scared_. His voice sounded quiet and strangled. _“What?”_

Janus took a step towards Creativity, radiating fury. “Tell the _whole_ truth now, Roman.” His voice was sharp and cold, cutting into Creativity, making him shrink back. “Don’t leave out the little details. _Lying_ is _wrong,_ isn’t it?”

“Someone tell me what is going on _right now.”_ Virgil could feel himself shaking.

Surprisingly, it was Logic that answered him. “It took some time, but Thomas did indeed accept you,” he started to explain while placing a hand on Creativity’s shoulder. “However, he was unaware that you were formerly…”

“A _dark_ side,” Remus spat. “Don’t get shy on the facts now, _Logic._ Don’t tiptoe around his feelings. We all know how you feel about _emotions.”_

Logic turned a warning glare on Remus, narrowing his eyes.

Remus responded by rolling his eyes into the back of his head so only the sclera was visible. He bared his teeth and blood dripped from his mouth.

The hope Virgil had felt flickered out like an extinguished candle. “So Thomas found out I’m a dark side and freaked out. Awesome.” It was what he would have expected. Hoping for Thomas to accept him was a fool’s dream.

“Well. Technically, it was past tense for the situation in question, although present tense is now appropriate given –”

Janus made a gesture and Logic’s hand came up to cover his mouth, cutting him off. Logic leveled a displeased look in his direction.

“Give him time to adjust,” Creativity pleaded. “Thomas will come around. Are you really willing to throw everything away for –”

“Get out.”

No one moved.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Anger and hurt and betrayal stung at the corners of his eyes. Without meaning to, Virgil pulled the shadows of the room to him, dropping the temperature until it was chilly. **“Fuck off. I don’t want you here.”**

Logic’s hand dropped away from his mouth. Creativity’s bottom lip trembled, but he stubbornly refused to cry, instead glaring daggers at all of them. He sunk out without a word.

“Our apologies for waking you,” Logic said stiffly. Then he too sunk out.

Janus, Remus and Virgil all seemed to hold their breaths, not wanting to be the first to address what had just happened. Remus started pacing, his fingers fidgeting with his sash.

Virgil rounded on Janus first. “You _were_ going to tell me, _weren’t you?”_ It wasn’t a question; it was an accusation.

Janus crossed his arms defensively. “Should I have told you before or after your panic attack yesterday?”

Remus quietly gasped.

Janus winced, and Virgil could tell he regretted saying it. But he didn’t care about Janus’s feelings right now. He was mad. He should have been told. He had a right to know. “You know what? _Fuck. You. Deceit.”_ Virgil spat his title, feeling betrayed. Absently, he summoned his regular black clothing, replacing his pajamas, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, letting the familiar weight and fabric soothe him. He tried to count and breathe slower to keep all his emotions in check.

He counted for a while.

“I didn't mean to,” Janus whispered, startling him. He stepped into Virgil’s field of vision, reaching out but not touching. _“Please._ I would have told you yesterday, but it was so much, and I didn’t know how much was too much too fast but… I would have told you.” His eyes flicked back forth between Virgil’s own, pleading. “I want you here, but I want you to choose it.” _To choose us. To choose me._ “I don’t want you to be _stuck_ with us. I want…” Virgil could barely hear him finish his sentence. “…to be wanted.”

Virgil sighed, feeling some of his anger melt away. “Well lucky for you, I like being stuck with you.”

The hope on Janus’s face was, quite frankly, disgusting. “…Yeah?”

He couldn’t be furious, not when Janus was being so terrifyingly vulnerable with him. He let the edges of his mouth turn up in a wry smile. “Yeah.” He poked a finger into Janus’s chest, giving him one last warning look. “But you should have told me yesterday.”

“I didn't–”

“Hey.” He cut Janus off. “I get why you didn't.” He shoved him, no force, all affection.

Remus immediately stopped pacing when he pushed Janus. He watched the two of them with wide eyes, hovering, waiting, still working his fingers over the fabric of his sash.

“Rem? Wanna talk?”

Remus joined their little talking circle. His fingers let go of his sash to tap meaningless rhythms into the sides of his legs, until he saw Virgil staring and tucked his hands behind his back guiltily.

Virgil frowned. _Who made him afraid to fidget?_ He had a sinking feeling he knew the answer.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Remus said without preamble. That was the difference between Janus and Remus. Drawing feelings and important things out of Janus was like pulling teeth, and it usually required a near death experience or a ritual sacrifice. He wouldn’t open up unless he felt he had no other option. But Remus would say what he thought or what he felt, no filter. It didn’t mean he didn’t feel just as much as Janus though. “I don’t want you to pick Roman over me. You can’t go back to them, not again. It’s not fair! We _just_ got you back!”

“Hey.” Virgil stepped into his personal space, getting Remus to focus on him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Remus gave him a hard look. “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.” Virgil held out his pinky, letting Remus hook it with his own.

“Swear?”

“Yes, I swear, Remus.” The exasperation in Virgil’s voice was undercut by the smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Swear on your mother’s grave?”

“She's your mother too! And she’s not dead!”

 _“Yet.”_ Remus held up a hand and a piece of paper appeared. “I have predictions about how everyone will die. Who do you wanna start with: friends or family? Or celebrities? That one’s more of a wish list than predictions, but what can I say?” He smiled, showing off fangs that he normally didn’t have. “We gotta be ready to eat the rich.”

“Remus…” Janus started hesitantly, looking at Virgil like he was worried about his reaction.

Virgil shrugged a shoulder and walked over to the sofa, draping himself across it. “Friends and family are off limits, but let’s talk ethical consumption… of billionaires.”

“Cannibalism?” Remus asked, delighted.

A slow, lazy grin spread across Virgil’s face, and he flashed his fangs for Remus’s benefit.

Eyes squeezed shut, Remus made a high-pitched noise of excitement and then bounded over to join Virgil on the sofa. Virgil was stretched out across it, so Remus picked up his legs and sat down before setting Virgil’s legs back across him. The piece of paper that Remus was holding, presumably of the list of ways people might die, morphed into a spiral notebook. Remus turned the page and summoned a wooden pencil.

“Ja–D–uhh…” Virgil looked in askance at Janus. He made a noise that wasn’t a word at all.

“Huh?” Janus blinked.

Virgil’s slouched in on himself, which was not an easy feat lying down. “You didn’t like when I called you Janus. You didn’t like when I called you Deceit. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“So you noticed that,” Janus muttered, more to himself than to Virgil. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. Put his hat back on. Fiddled with the clasp on his cape. Scowled. “Janus is fine.”

It wasn’t the explanation that Virgil wanted, but he knew pushing would just make him clam up, so he let it go. “So Janus. Wanna join us?” He raised his eyebrows with a funny half-smile, hoping to convince him. Remus had his head tilted, eyes wide, silently begging.

Janus arched a single eyebrow, unmoved by their efforts. “Hard pass.” Yet he walked over and folded himself into an armchair. He pulled earbuds and his phone from somewhere in his pockets and started playing [big band swing music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r2S1I_ien6A). He was going to ruin his hearing, listening to it that loud.

Remus started chewing on the eraser and its metal casing on the end of his pencil.

Virgil rolled his eyes, nudging Remus with the toe of one of his socked feet. “Alright, where do you wanna start?”

The gleam in Remus’s eyes was two parts feral and one part unhinged. “I’ve got so many ideas.”

“Let’s start with the ones where we could have plausible deniability…”

*

The next day, Janus wanted to make pie. Virgil liked pie, so he supported Janus’s cause. And Remus liked any idea where they could destroy the kitchen a little. The only problem was none of them actually knew _how_ to make pie. So a handful of online recipes, three and half youtube videos, and several hours later, they ended up with something… pie-adjacent.

It certainly wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t really all that good, but it was edible and sweet, and it was theirs. It surpassed Virgil’s expectations by a landslide, and in the end, the ice cream they piled on top made it taste just as good as anything Remus might have conjured anyway.

*

Logic showed up one day. The other two didn’t come with him; he showed up alone.

Virgil had been watching a movie, laying on the sofa upside down, his feet going over the back. When Logic walked into his field of vision, he scrambled to sit upright, making himself dizzy in the sudden orientation change. He looked around for Janus or Remus, but they had wondered off somewhere else, leaving him unfortunately alone with the light side.

Logic raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I want to inquire about your well-being, nothing more.”

“I’m fine.” Virgil grit the words out, tugging his jacket further around his shoulders, eyeing Logic with open animosity.

“I assume Remus or Deceit has informed you about the video series that Thomas films with us?”

Virgil nodded.

“Am I correct in assuming that you no longer wish to join us in filming?”

He chewed on his lower lip. On the one hand, seeing Thomas, actually getting to talk to Thomas, being _listened to,_ sounded like too good a chance to pass up. But the thought of being there with the light sides without Remus or Janus made his skin crawl. “…I don’t know…”

Logic looked at him then looked away, something Virgil couldn’t name visible in his expression for a split second. It felt oddly familiar. But the more he tried to place why it was familiar, the more the feeling slipped through his fingers. Logic cleared this throat. “We have been doing our best to keep Thomas from summoning you, but I fear it is only prolonging the inevitable.”

“Good. Awesome. Great.”

“Sarcasm.”

Virgil gave him a funny look. “Uh, yeah. It is.”

Logic fiddled with his tie. “You – ah the other you, that is, was helping me recognize sarcasm.”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

Frustration pinched Logic’s face. He took a deep breath. “Nevertheless, I thought it best to warn you that Thomas will eventually summon you. I think you should bring Deceit and Remus with you when that happens.” At Virgil’s surprised look, Logic explained, “You seem much more at ease around Patton, Roman, and myself when they are present.”

“Oh.” Virgil hadn’t realized it had been that obvious. “Well, I don’t think I could keep them away even if I didn’t want them there.”

Almost as if to prove his point, Remus appeared next to Virgil without warning. His face lit up upon seeing him, although when he caught sight of Logic, his expression turned sharper. Propping an elbow up on Virgil’s shoulder and leaning against him, Remus quipped, “Hey babe. This guy bothering you?”

“Remus,” Logic greeted him dryly. “Always a pleasure.” He looked at Virgil, nodding his head in acknowledgement. “Anxiety.” Then he sunk out.

Virgil tried to ignore the strange emotions he felt at hearing Logic call him by his title and instead filled Remus in on what Logic had said.

*

One unfortunate morning, Virgil woke up to Remus bouncing on the end of his bed, flipping all the lights and the fan on, pulling the blankets off him, leaving his body to weather the cold. Virgil rolled over and covered his head with his pillow.

“TIME TO WAKE UP!”

_This house is a fucking nightmare._

“We’re going on an adventure!” Remus singsonged, trying to entice Virgil to leave his wonderful, soft, loving bed. He only succeeded in making Virgil hate him.

Thankfully, savior of saviors, angel of angels, Virgil’s favorite side in the entire world, Janus, swooped in to corral Remus out of the room, shutting the fan and lights off as he went.

“You're my new favorite,” Virgil called reverently, making Janus cackle in response.

*

Remus returned a few hours later, at a much more reasonable time in the afternoon, and the three of them went on one of his ludicrous quests through the Imagination.

They almost died only twice and made it out no worse for wear beyond a handful of scrapes and a bruise on Remus. (And it was actually kind of fun, not that Virgil or Janus were admitting that to Remus.) Virgil counted it as a win.

But it left the issue of Remus’s insane wake up call that morning. Something like that couldn’t go unanswered. Janus firmly refused to help Virgil take his revenge, but he enjoyed getting updates on what Virgil had planned.

The day dragged on into the evening and then later into the night, and nothing Virgil did seemed to affect Remus. “I stole all his socks. I don’t think he’s noticed. Does he even wear socks??” Virgil complained to Janus, sitting at the table while Remus was in the shower. “I took the door handles off his door, so he knocked a _hole_ in the _wall_ to walk in and out of his room. I put salt in his coffee, and _he liked it.”_

“Hair dye in his shampoo?” Janus suggested mildly, looking more interested in the whipped cream on his hot chocolate than Virgil’s company.

Virgil sat back in his chair and sighed. “Unoriginal.”

“Shaving cream in his toothpaste?”

“Cliché.” _And he likes it._

“Well, you could always –” Janus cut himself off as they heard a blood-curdling scream. “What was that?”

The beginning sensations of panic ran down Virgil’s spine. “Was dying all the green on his uniform red too much?”

Janus’s soul left his body – Virgil watched it happen. He gave Virgil a pointed look, making it perfectly clear how stupid he thought he was. _“Run.”_

Virgil jumped up from the table, knocking his chair over in the process. He scrambled down the hallway, hoping to make it to his room before Remus left his. Unfortunately, Remus emerged from the new hole in the wall to his room just as Virgil reached the other end of the hallway. They both looked at each other and then screamed for entirely different reasons. Nearly face-planting into the floor trying to turn around in his socks on the wooden floor, Virgil ran back towards Janus, hoping to use him as shield or at least as a distraction.

“I’m gonna kill you, _Snow Fright Queen!”_

 _Snow White Queen: Evanescence reference. Ten points to –_ He cut off his internal monologue because now was not the time for it. “You gotta catch me first,” he called over his shoulder, taunting Remus in a way that would only come back to bite him later.

Janus painted his nails and sipped his hot chocolate and otherwise ignored them while Remus chased Virgil around the room.

*

One second, he had been about to win the latest round of their Clue game, and the next, he felt himself being pulled and then he was _falling._ “What the –” As he stood up from the stairs he was sprawled on, his question died on his lips. _Thomas._ He found himself unable to do anything but stare at the person in question.

“We tried to stop him,” Logic informed Virgil quietly. “But he was insistent that you be summoned.”

“What’s going on, Virge? You haven’t been showing up with the others.”

Janus appeared next to Morality at the same time that Remus appeared next to Creativity. Some of the tension in Virgil’s stomach uncoiled now that he wasn’t alone. “Speaking of others,” Janus purred, flashing a flirty grin, “I can’t believe we weren’t invited. Can you, Remus?”

Before Remus could answer, Creativity flatly informed them, “You weren’t wanted.”

“Not wanted?” Remus summoned a raven that perched on his arm. He ran his fingers down the raven’s feathers. “Oh dear. What an _awkward_ situation. I had hoped it was merely due to some oversight.” He looked up from the raven to fix Creativity with meaningful stare. “Well in that event, I best be on my way.”

Creativity looked like he was barely holding back excitement. “And… you’re not offended, Your Excellency?”

“Why _no,_ Your Majesty.”

“As _charming_ as this little reenactment of that [Sleeping Beauty scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ylddTAX8KM&feature=youtu.be&t=33) is,” Janus cut in, “I believe there are more pressing matters at hand.”

“Ohhhh!” Morality hit his forehead with his palm. “I knew that dialogue sounded familiar! Nice one, Roman!” Morality gave Creativity a thumbs up. Remus and Creativity exchanged high fives and wide grins.

Thomas cleared his throat. “Speaking of pressing matters: why is no one freaking out that these two,” he pointed to Janus and Remus, “are here?”

“Anxiety has… lost some memories.” Logic ignored Thomas’s question in favor of getting to the matter at hand.

“Woah, what? Are you okay?”

“I’m Not Okay, I Promise.” Virgil didn’t know how to feel about Thomas looking at him with concern. It was… surprisingly nice. In a way. Almost like Thomas cared about him.

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. “I kinda wanted to talk to you about… _you know…_ but I guess it’ll have to wait.”

“Uh no, I really don’t know.”

Logic pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thomas, I _just_ told you Anxiety is missing memories.”

“Oh, yeah, uh right.” Thomas flushed. “How did that happen? Am I missing memories now too?”

“You shouldn’t be,” Logic answered the second question at the same time that Creativity answered the first: “The Dragon Witch did it.”

Thomas looked at Logic and then Creativity, processing what they had said. “The Dragon Witch?”

Creativity nodded. “I think it’s some kind of curse. I’d have a better idea if _someone_ had stayed in the light half and let me examine him.”

Virgil flipped Creativity off. Like _hell_ was he staying with the _light sides._

Thomas gave Virgil a warning glare. “So how do we get his memories back?”

“Woah, pump the brakes, Sanders. Who says I _want_ my memories back?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Thomas blinked. When Virgil didn’t immediately respond, his expression turned leery. “Wait, how many memories are you missing exactly?”

“All the important ones,” Creativity said, while Morality bemoaned, “He doesn’t know any of us!”

“Hey!” Virgil yelled, trying to remind the others that this was _his_ moment. He was _not_ going to be talked about like he wasn’t standing right there. He answered Thomas, “I’ve never talked to you. Face to face. Like this.”

Thomas frowned. “And you don’t want your memories back?” When Virgil shook his head _no,_ Thomas asked, “Why?”

“Because the other me was an idiot!”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s see. The other me joined the light sides. Bold career move, considering they hate my guts.” Virgil started to tick the items off on his fingers, ignoring Morality’s wounded noise. “I left my friends – totally gave them trust issues by the way, so I win the World’s Worst Friend Award for that one. Apparently I do some kind of video series with you now, despite the fact that I’m _literally_ Anxiety. And here’s the kicker: somehow I’ve deluded myself into thinking you actually care about what I have to say!” He could feel his chest heaving and his voice getting a bit too loud, but he was too worked up to care. “I gave up being scary and actually doing my _fucking job_ for a chance to play house with people that will never appreciate that I’m trying to keep you safe!”

Thomas opened his mouth and then shut it again. Cleared his throat. “Guys, give us some space.” All the other sides took a step backwards. Thomas looked up at the ceiling for a long time. “We’re literally the same person,” he murmured. “How can you misunderstand me?” He looked at the floor and then at Logic. His voice back at a normal volume, he instructed more clearly, “I need everyone else to leave.”

Logic sunk out immediately, followed by Morality after he gave Thomas a long heartfelt look. The feelings made Virgil nauseous.

“But Thomas!” Creativity protested, expression drawn and worried.

“I’ve got this, Princey.”

Creativity turned to Remus, who was still standing next to him petting the raven. Remus raised his eyebrows, giving him a look that asked, _I’m still here, what are you gonna do about it?_ Thomas gave Creativity a pointed look, and he didn’t look happy at all, but he sunk out nonetheless.

It left Virgil, Remus, and Janus alone with Thomas. Thomas cleared his throat, eyeing the other two, but Virgil quickly insisted, “They stay.” Thomas looked like he wanted to argue, so Virgil pushed, “They stay or I go.”

Pursing his lips, Thomas just nodded once. “So, you guys are like, friends?”

Before Virgil could say _uh, yeah_ in the most condescending voice ever, Janus responded dryly, “Surprising, I know.”

Guilt sliced at his heart. If it was surprising that they were friends, what did that say about how the other Virgil treated Janus and Remus?

“Idea,” Remus spoke up, letting the raven on his arm disappear. “Since the curse is from the Dragon Witch…” He made a gesture that only he understood. “And she’s one of Roman’s creations…” He mimed connecting two points, looking proud of himself. “The cure has to be something simple but disgusting. Probably true love’s kiss or some bullshit.”

“What?” Thomas asked in confusion.

“No fucking way,” Virgil hissed. He’d die before anyone kissed him. Or worse – he kissed somebody.

Remus shrugged. “Been thinking about it since we got Virgil back. And after what Roman said…” He shrugged. “I figure that’s gotta be it. Roman is _traditional_ like that.” He sneered the word, making it clear it was an insult.

“Well first of all, that’s not happening so jot that down.” Virgil crossed his arms. “And second, I don’t even want the memories. So. Moving on.”

“No, no, wait.” Thomas took a step closer to him. “I… I know we didn’t treat you the best when you first showed up. I know _I_ didn’t always listen to you.” His gaze wasn’t quite meeting Virgil’s eyes. “You… scared me. But I should have tried to understand you better and work with you instead of pretending like you didn’t exist.”

The air left Virgil’s lungs. He blinked rapidly, telling himself it must be dusty in Thomas’s living room.

“I know you don’t remember, but things got better. A lot better. You’re… pretty cool. And I like having you around.”

Hope fluttered like a caged bird behind Virgil’s ribs. He couldn’t stop himself from whispering, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Thomas grinned, and it was like looking into the sun. All he could feel was warmth and brightness. “I'm just asking for a chance. Get your memories back and then decide for yourself what you want to do.” Virgil started chewing on his bottom lip, and Thomas rushed to reassure him, “A lot can change in a few months. The others don’t hate you. And I definitely don’t.”

Virgil’s eyes darted over to Remus and Janus. Remus looked terrified, but Janus looked grim and resigned; Virgil didn’t know which expression was worse. But Thomas was standing there too, looking at him with such openness and kindness and _hope._ It was all Virgil had ever wanted. It’s all any of them ever wanted. What was a side without _Thomas?_

“I… I don’t…”

“Virgil,” Thomas said softly, emotions Virgil couldn’t name shining like stars in his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Static roared in Virgil’s ears. His instincts screamed for him to trust Thomas, but his instincts also screamed that the light sides would eat him alive. There was no way Thomas had actually accepted him. There was no way he could turn Thomas down. He couldn’t leave his friends – not after whatever the other Virgil had put them through. But he couldn’t deny Thomas this one thing, not when it was _Thomas_ who was asking.

Pressure started in his stomach, slowly creeping up to ensnare his lungs and his throat. Betray Thomas or betray his friends, that was the choice. Let Thomas down or hurt Janus and Remus.

But… if he got his memories back… surely that didn’t mean things _had_ to change? Maybe… maybe they could still be friends. Virgil would just have his memories back. Nothing had to change.

Distantly, as if he were underwater, he heard himself ask something that sounded like it could have been the word, “What?”

Thomas smiled, soft and hopeful and radiant and absolutely perfect, and Virgil knew at that moment the choice that he was going to make. Thomas repeated, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

 _“NO!”_ Remus had tears on his cheeks. He ran in front of Virgil, blocking his view of Thomas, effectively ending their moment. “You promised!” He accused Virgil, sounding absolutely heartbroken, “You pinky promised!”

He remembered Remus’s worried face, could hear his words: _I don’t want you to leave._ And his own promise in return: _I’m not going anywhere._

“Remus,” Virgil said gently, reaching out for him. He wanted to reassure him: _This doesn’t change anything. No matter what I remember. You’re still my friend. You’ll always be my friend. Always._

But Remus pulled away, out of Virgil’s reach. _“Don’t,”_ he hissed, the threat of violence in the edge of his tone. He roughly wiped at his cheeks. “Don’t lie to me.”

Virgil felt tears of his own. “Remus, _please.”_

Remus closed his eyes, then looked off somewhere to Virgil’s right. His voice wavered, thick with emotion, but the resolution in his expression _broke_ Virgil. “I never want to see you again.”

And then he was gone.

“I–” His breath caught in his lungs. Desperately, he turned to Janus, hoping he could do something, _anything_ to help fix this. “Janus–” The name hung in the air. Janus was looking at him with a brittle smile, sad and bittersweet but unsurprised in a way that shattered Virgil into a million tiny pieces that could never be made to fit together again.

“Virgil.” Janus carefully made his way across the room to stand in front of him. Close, but not touching. Just out of arm’s reach. “This was always what was going to happen.” The certainty in his voice only made Virgil cry harder.

_How long has he been expecting this?_

Janus’s eyes glittered, and if Virgil wasn’t looking through his own tears, he might have seen the ones Janus held back. His voice was quiet, reverent. “It was _so good_ to see you again, after all this time.”

 _“No,_ I won't–” Virgil suddenly found he couldn’t speak. It took him a moment to realize it was Janus’s doing.

Sniffling, Janus took a moment to compose himself. As Virgil wiped away his own tears, the coldness in Janus’s face startled him. Janus leaned closer to him, stepping into his personal space. The sheer fury coming off him made Virgil involuntarily take a step back. “If you ever come near me or Remus again,” he held Virgil’s gaze with a burning intensity, voice low in warning, “I will kill you. And Anxiety?” He grinned, empty and sharp and _furious,_ revealing his fangs. “I won’t hesitate in the slightest.”

Then he took a step back, tugging lightly at his cape, seemingly totally unbothered by everything. “Oh. One more thing.” His tone turned almost conversational, and it _ruined_ Virgil. “Once you get your memories back, please take a moment to kindly go fuck yourself.”

Then he too was gone.

Virgil stumbled back a step, half falling, half collapsing onto the stairs. He shoved himself backwards until he was sitting in the little corner where the step he was sitting on met the wall. He tilted his head back and looked up unseeingly at the ceiling.

“…Virgil?”

He couldn’t look at Thomas. “Just. Just give me a minute.”

There were no thoughts in his head. No feelings in his heart. Just a hollowness and the ache of something gone. The sensation of loss. He couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t sort through what had happened. He just… existed.

He couldn’t have given a guess for how much time had passed when Thomas asked again, “…Virgil?”

He leaned forward, putting his feet on the step below the one he was sitting on, resting his arms on his knees and his head on his arms. When he spoke, his voice sounded so small. “Did I do the right thing?”

Thomas hummed sympathetically. “I think you did.” His tone was soft but sad. “But maybe there wasn’t a right thing to do. Sometimes choices are just choices.”

Virgil slowly stood up on shaky legs, unable to return the hesitant smile Thomas offered him.

“I don’t know everything about… you and – and Remus and Deceit.” Thomas sighed. “But you should have all your memories. It’s like having all the facts. And I think choosing to get them back is a step in the right direction.”

“Yeah,” Virgil apathetically agreed. Mirthless laughter spilled out of his mouth. “We don’t even know how to get them back though.” Then he remembered Remus’s words about true love and miserably corrected, “We don’t know if it’ll work.” The thought of not being able to get his memories back, losing _everything_ for nothing made his head hurt. Hell, it made all of him hurt.

“Hey,” Thomas pulled his focus back, his tone all gentleness and reassurance. “Let’s start with a hug and go from there, huh? We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Virgil nodded, letting Thomas pull him into a hug. For a moment, he felt pure comfort. Then the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In one draft I wrote, Thomas told Virgil, “I wanted to talk to you about how you used to be a dark side,” and Virgil responded, “Newsflash asshole, I’ve been a dark side the entire god damn time.”
> 
> I also wanted Janus to tell Virgil, "I won't hesitate, _bitch."_
> 
> But those didn’t fit the tone of the conversations. They were funny tho so here they are!
> 
> I’m gonna post the third chapter on Wednesday because waiting a whole week feels like such a long time, ya know?


	3. Virgil is Fine™

Virgil woke to a dim room. He rolled his head over, realizing with a start that he was inches from falling off the sofa. That was strange, considering that he couldn’t remember falling asleep on the sofa. Or being in the living room.

He sat up slowly, dark spots racing to cloud his vision. Balling his hands into fists, he rubbed his eyes for a moment, letting his vision slowly return. The lights flicked on, and Virgil squinted against the sudden onslaught of brightness.

“Oh good! You’re awake! How’re you feeling, kiddo?”

Virgil turned to see Patton. Between one moment and the next, Virgil had stood up and thrown himself at Patton, who stumbled back, hands coming up to catch him and pull him into a hug. “Oof.” Patton gently ran his hands across his back. “Well hello to you too.” Virgil could hear the smile in his voice.

A new voice sounded from behind them. “Virgil’s up?” Patton let go of him long enough for Roman to see him. Roman’s smile was brilliant, and Virgil couldn’t help but return it (although his was smaller and more subdued). Roman laid a hand on his shoulder, then brought his other hand up to hold the back of Virgil’s neck. Carefully, he encouraged Virgil closer, leaning forward himself so their foreheads briefly touched. Then he let Virgil go, taking a step back to look him up and down. From anyone else, the whole thing would have been weird and awkward, but from Roman, it was a strange mix of formal and intimate. He smiled again, relief shining in his eyes. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Virgil took in a steadying breath. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Patton took a step towards Roman, the movement catching Virgil’s attention. “You have your memories back now?”

“Yeah.” Emotional turmoil swirled in his chest, but he resolutely ignored it. He had made a choice. There was nothing he could do about it now. Janus and Remus didn’t want _this_ version of him. And he… he didn’t need them. He had Roman and Patton and Logan. Things were better this way. “Yeah, I have all my memories back.” Narrowing his gaze on Roman, he half-joked, “I’m _never_ going into the Imagination with you again.”

Roman rubbed his upper arm sheepishly. “Sorry about that…”

“It’s fine.” Virgil playfully pushed him. “I know you didn’t mean for everything to happen.”

“Roman, how many times must I tell you Virgil needs _quiet_ while he rests, not your –” Logan stopped his frustrated tirade when he finally emerged from the hallway, seeing Virgil standing with the other two. _“Virgil.”_ He quickly crossed the room to join their little circle. “I assume you have recovered your memories?”

Before Virgil could respond, Roman and Patton were both speaking over top of each other, answering for him.

“–he’s right as rain–”

“–fit as a fiddle again–”

Virgil watched Logan try to process the idioms, nodding when Logan looked at him.

“I was worried about you.”

A soft, warm feeling overtook him. Virgil's expression turned sickeningly sweet, and he couldn’t be bothered to care that it didn’t fit his usual aesthetic. He offered Logan a shy smile back.

Roman and Patton corralled him onto the sofa, tucking pillows and blankets around him. Logan sunk out, saying he was going to inform Thomas that Virgil was okay. Patton disappeared into the kitchen, thinking aloud about cookies and soup and pancakes. Roman snickered, settling in next to Virgil, conspiratorially leaning over to quietly say, “Hopefully when Logan gets back, he’ll steer Patton into food groups with the same theme.”

Virgil listened to Patton in the kitchen, humming while he pulled things out and set them on the counter and ran water and seemed to bang together every single pot and pan that they had. Logan’s voice soon joined Patton’s as they discussed what foods were acceptable to eat together and what foods were not.

Next to him, Roman was filling him in on everything that he had missed while he had been away; all their efforts to get him back, the conversations they had with Thomas without him, Roman’s venture into the Imagination to get information from the Dragon Witch. He heard the words Roman was saying, registered them, and then watched as they passed him by. His body felt like it was sinking further and further into the sofa. His mind was running a million miles a minute, but on the outside, he blankly stared off into the distance.

A hand touched his shoulder. “You okay?” Roman pulled his hand away.

Virgil turned to look at him, then looked straight forward again. “Yeah.”

“I know…” Roman hesitated. “I know it can’t have been easy, being over there, with them.”

Virgil winced. It had been months since he had left Janus and Remus… the first time, anyway. Months since he joined the light sides. But with everything that happened… losing and regaining his memories… it reopened old wounds as well as created a few new ones. The hurt, the fear, the _regret_ was still achingly fresh.

Abruptly, he stood up. “Let’s go help in the kitchen.” He didn’t wait for a response, so he didn’t see the pitying look Roman cast his way.

In the kitchen, Logan was pleading with Patton, “At least stick with one food group! Breakfast or dinner.”

“Why can’t we have both?” Patton was somewhere between frazzled and hysteric, only augmented by the frying pan he was waving around as he gestured with his hands. “Virgil wants both! He deserves both!”

“Pat,” Virgil interjected, stepping around Logan, slowly pulling the frying pan from Patton’s grip. “What if we make pizzas, huh? Doesn’t that sound good?”

Patton blinked. He looked at the frying pan, now in Virgil’s hands, as if he wasn’t sure how it got there. “You want pizza?”

“Yeah.” Virgil nodded, slowly starting to put away all the things Patton had pulled out. Logan quickly followed suit in cleaning up the mess Patton had managed to make in just a few minutes. “We can each make one. You know, like this?” He set the sugar back in the cabinet and held up his hands, outlining a circle about the size of a pie pan.

“I can make the dough,” Roman offered from the doorway.

Virgil gently steered Patton away from the oven. “You can help me look for whatever we have that we can use as toppings.”

Logan continued putting away cookware. Roman started measuring flour into a bowl. Virgil and Patton looked through the refrigerator, though Virgil noticed Patton spent more time looking at him than he did looking for pizza-related food.

He thought of what he must have put Patton through. The things he had snapped at his friends when his memories were gone. The cold way he had treated them. They would have all been so worried, and Virgil had wanted nothing to do with them.

It wasn’t his fault, but it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty.

Just another item on his already long list of sins.

*

Virgil was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. After everyone had eaten their pizzas, Virgil had stumbled into his room and more or less passed out. It had only been seven or eight in the evening, and he woke up from his nap sometime around eleven. Ever since then, he had been trying in vain to fall back asleep. He’d thrown his blankets off, turned on the fan, turned off the fan. Scrolled through tumblr, listened to music. Got up and walked around. Laid back down. Played on his phone. Eventually, he plugged his phone back in to charge, opting to simply lay in bed until boredom made him fall asleep. Unfortunately, he was too caught up in worrying about Patton and Logan and Roman and Remus and Janus and Thomas to do anything but overanalyze every situation and conversation he’d had over the past week or two.

He _missed_ Janus and Remus. And that made him feel guilty because it was his fault that they weren't together anymore. He was the one who had left them. He didn't get to miss them. He didn't get to feel sad about that. It was _his fault._

No matter what he did, his thoughts kept circling back to that. He tried to think of anything except the time he had spent with them, but unfortunately, as Thomas had learned in Remus’s first video, it's not possible to simply make yourself stop thinking about something.

A knock at his door startled him. He rolled his head over, looking at the clock on the wall. It was a bit after three. He swung his legs off the bed and walked over to open the door. Patton greeted him on the other side with a little wave. Virgil narrowed his eyes. “Have you been to bed yet?”

“Umm…” Patton looked down, digging his sock-clad toes into the carpet. “I was watching Steven Universe.”

An amused smile tugged at Virgil’s mouth, and he allowed it because Patton wasn’t looking at him. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Patton looked up at him, grinning, warm and easy. “Are you alright?”

“Hate to break it to you,” Virgil chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, “But I’m usually up at this time.”

“Yeah.” Patton nodded. Looked away. His expression faded into something a little more serious. “It’s just, I felt a lot of feelings. Coming from here.” He was politely dancing around what he was saying. _I felt a lot of feelings coming from you._

Virgil winced, internally cursing himself. He should have known Patton would pick up on all the negative things he had been feeling. Anxiety was his realm, but sadness and heartbreak and misery were Patton’s. “I’m okay,” Virgil said carefully, trying to make sure his tone of voice sounded right. Janus would have known he was lying, but then, Janus always knew when he was lying. Janus knew when everyone was lying.

And there he was again, thinking about things he was trying to avoid.

Patton laid a gentle hand on Virgil’s arm. “Would it be okay if I stayed? Just for a little while.” He blinked his eyes, wide and innocent and baby blue.

Stepping away from the door, Virgil sighed. He couldn’t deny Patton anything. “Of course.”

“Are you tired?”

 _Yes._ “No.”

Patton was already moving the chair at Virgil’s desk. “Let’s build a pillow fort.”

They used the edge of Virgil’s bed and the desk chair and a little table beside Virgil’s bed as pillars to support the blanket roof. Patton summoned enough blankets to cover an army, draping them around the sides of their structure and the little space on the floor beneath the blanket roof. He also summoned a million pillows and a toy store’s worth of stuffed animals.

When they were done, they sat inside, Virgil next to the side with the bed. A cool glow emitted from the cat night light that Patton had summoned, just enough light for Virgil to see shadows on Patton’s face.

“Would you mind if I sat here? Just for a little while.”

“Of course, Pat. You helped make it.”

Patton fluffed some pillows behind him, making himself a throne of pillows. He grabbed a stuffed animal pig, teddy bear, dog, and T-Rex, arranging them just so, and they sat at his feet, dutifully listening in case he might say something to them. He pulled a koala into his lap. It was missing an eye, and an X had been stitched over the spot where the little black plastic eye had been. There were a few patches of fur that had been worn away, revealing the fabric underneath. The stuffing had been pushed from the koala’s tummy further into its stubby arms and legs, making it a limp, pitiful looking thing. But it was Patton’s favorite by far, and Virgil knew it.

Virgil tapped his feet together where they were stretched out in front of him, enjoying the peace and quiet. The black nail polish on his fingers was starting to chip. He’d have to redo them tomorrow. Or today, considering how early in the morning it was.

“You know…” Patton said quietly, barely a whisper, as if he were afraid to break the silence that had settled in their pillow fort. His fingers brushed rhythmically over the ears of the koala he was holding. “If you ever want to talk… I’m here for you.”

He ran his thumb and pointer finger down the ribbon tied around the teddy bear’s neck. He started to say something and then stopped. To have something to do to fill the awkward void, he ran his fingers along the ribbon again. “I know.”

“I mean it,” Patton whispered the promise, earnestness coloring his voice. “I’m always here for you.”

Virgil didn’t know what to say. How could he explain it all to Patton, how it was all his fault, how some things simply couldn’t be fixed, how things were so complicated that he didn’t even know if he could fit in all into words. _Some things are too broken to be fixed._ So he didn’t say anything.

Then Patton held out the koala, offering, “You can hold Mr. Wiggles for a while. If you want.”

He didn’t really particularly want to hold the koala, but it was Patton’s favorite stuffed animal and knowing that Patton would let him hold it in the hope that it would make him feel better made something in Virgil’s chest warm with a spark of happiness. Carefully, he took the koala from Patton’s outstretched hands. “Thanks.”

He let his fingers run over Mr. Wiggles’ ears, his one good eye and the stitches in the other eye, the velvet nose. Setting the koala on his stomach, he decided to hold it against him with his arm and tried his best not to think about all the things he didn’t want to think about.

It didn’t work.

After a while, Patton started to yawn and couldn’t seem to stop. He snapped and changed his clothes into pajamas, and Virgil held the koala back for him to take.

“Would it be okay if I laid down? Just for a little while.”

“Of course,” Virgil replied easily, fully aware that Patton was going to fall asleep in the pillow fort on the floor.

“M’kay.” Patton laid down, repositioning all his stuffed animals around him, hugging Mr. Wiggles to his side, a blanket pulled over the two of them.

Virgil moved the cat night light so it was out of the way and laid down himself.

*

He woke to cold feet pressed against the back of his legs under the blankets. Someone was breathing near his neck, their breath warm and faintly tickling. He rolled over, meaning to shove them a little further away, maybe steal another blanket, when he suddenly caught sight of green. _Remus?_ His heart skipped a beat.

It was Patton in his baby green frog pajamas.

Something that felt distinctly like disappointment settled in the pit of his stomach. He rolled back over, pulling his blanket with him, and crawled under the bed, further away from Patton’s cold feet and gentle breathing.

He told himself he was fine.

*

After getting his memories back, Virgil started following Logan around.

He hadn’t meant to, at first. Thomas needed Roman and Patton for something, and it had left Logan and Virgil alone.

Perhaps because Logan genuinely enjoyed Virgil’s company or maybe because they were all still getting over the linger nerves of Virgil having lost his memories, Logan decided he didn’t want to leave him alone and said as much. They quickly decided on doing a puzzle together. It was 1000 pieces, depicting the Butterfly Nebula.

“Are you serious?” Before Logan had a chance to roll his eyes and condescend, _yes Virgil, I’m always serious,_ Virgil asked, “It’s _really_ called the Butterfly Nebula?”

Logan stopped spreading the pieces out on the table for a moment to properly look at him. “Officially, it’s known as Planetary Nebula NGC 6302. But it has been nicknamed the Butterfly Nebula because of its shape.” Logan started spreading the pieces out again, pulling aside the ones that made up the border.

“Huh.” Virgil started to assist him. “That’s awesome.”

Logan didn’t smile, but Virgil could tell he was happy. “The Butterfly Nebula is located in the constellation Scorpius. The nebula is approximately 3 light years in diameter and 3,800 lightyears away from Earth.”

“How long is a lightyear? You know, in real units.”

 _“Real units,”_ Logan repeated dryly, giving Virgil a look over the rim of his glasses. “Nine trillion, four hundred sixty billion, seven hundred thirty million, four hundred seventy-two thousand, five hundred and eighty-one kilometers.”

”I said _real_ units.”

Logan blinked.

“This is _Florida._ We don’t use _metrics.”_ Logan started to say something, and Virgil rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know metrics are better. But I can’t envision estimates in metrics! What is a kilometer? What is a liter? What the _fuck_ is a Celsius?”

Logan fixed him with a deadpan look. It wasn’t quite a question when he said, “You’re going to _envision_ a lightyear. In your head.” He chuckled. “I know for a fact that you can’t envision anything beyond a magnitude of 3, and this is a magnitude of 12.” Virgil glared at him, and he relented with great amusement, “A light year is also five trillion, eight hundred seventy-eight billion, six hundred twenty-five million, three hundred seventy-three thousand, one hundred and eighty-four miles.”

Virgil tried to think about how much that was. He could feel his face scrunch up, and he knew Logan was laughing internally at him even if he wasn’t laughing on the outside. Finally, all he had to say was, “That’s like… a lot.”

A giggle slipped past Logan’s lips. He brought a hand up to try to smother the noise to no avail. Virgil couldn’t help but join in, the puzzle momentarily forgotten between them. When one of them would calm down slightly, the other would burst into more laughter, sending them into fits again.

Eventually, Logan stepped away from the table, clutching his side. “Don’t look at me.” He took a few steadying breaths, and Virgil tried to calm his own giddiness into something more reserved.

Logan sat back down again, all composure once more. He joined Virgil in putting together some of the pieces around the border.

“…Lo?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you uh, have more space facts?”

A pause. “Planetary nebulae get their name from their shape. They are round, so they appeared similar to planets through telescopes in the nineteenth century…”

It wouldn’t be until much later, when Patton and Roman had both returned and wandered off, after the puzzle was all put together, that Virgil would realize he hadn’t thought about all the things he didn’t want to think about while he was with Logan. Between the puzzle and Logan’s space facts, he had managed to avoid the torment of overthinking or worrying about things that already happened or things that might happen or all the things he had done wrong and all the ways he had hurt his friends.

So after that, Virgil became Logan’s shadow. Anywhere Logan went, Virgil went too. When Logan wanted to read, he took a nap. When Logan wanted to do experiments, Virgil agreed to be a lab assistant. When Logan wanted time alone, Virgil would watch movies with Patton or paint with Roman. And the rest of the time, Logan served as the world’s best distraction Virgil had ever found to date.

And that was okay, for a while. But then Roman started to get suspicious because, “Virgil, I’ve knocked on your door eight times in the past day and you were never there? You’re always in your room?” and Patton was worried because, “Kiddo, you seem to be avoiding some negative feelings. Every time I see you, you seem like you’re doing worse,” and Logan gently but firmly told him, “I do not mean to say I am tired of you or find you bothersome, but I require time alone.”

And then there was the issue of sleeping. When he took short cat naps during the day, he had no trouble falling asleep. There was always some kind of noise, someone around, and he never slept for too long anyway. But sleeping at night was another matter.

When Patton stayed up late watching TV, between the show and Patton’s commentary, Virgil was out like a light. Some nights, he convinced Roman to stay up and watch videos with him or just sit up talking, giggling into the night like they were middle schoolers. And with Logan, all he had to do was ask a question about the latest space launch or the inadequacies of the American education system or the difference in jam, jelly, and preserves, and Logan would gladly start expounding.

But trying to sleep alone in his room was useless. He had tried to get to sleep on his own. Listening to music. Or playing movies. Or listening to podcasts. But it never worked. There was something about when the noise came from the others. It was almost like… he didn’t want to be alone.

_Pathetic._

Logan had asked for some time alone though, and Virgil was giving it to him. He was _well_ aware what it was like to need some space; he didn’t begrudge Logan.

Glumly, he wandered up the stairs. Patton’s door was closed and the tiny gap under the door was dark. He had probably gone to sleep already, and Virgil would hate to wake him for something as trivial as _needing someone._

Up ahead, Roman’s door was slightly ajar, although the room inside was dark. But the open door was enough of an invitation for Virgil. Cautiously, he pushed the door open just enough for him to slip inside. He could make out the shape of a Roman-sized lump lying under the blankets in bed.

Silently, he slipped his shoes off and summoned his pajamas. Doing his best not to let his weight move the mattress too much, he laid down on the edge of the bed. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Roman rolled over, blindly threw a hand out, and then asked, “…Virgil?”

Virgil patted Roman’s hand twice where it had landed on his shoulder. “Yeah.”

Roman rolled the rest of the way over. “Need sumin?” His words ran together a little. Virgil must had woken him up.

He tried to keep his voice level when he asked, “Can I sleep here?” It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t. _It wasn't._

Roman hummed, grabbing Virgil with no warning and dragging him into his side. “Come ‘ere.”

Gingerly, Virgil resettled himself, resting his cheek on Roman’s shoulder, letting Roman worm his arms around him. Ten minutes after he fell asleep, he would probably roll back to the edge of the bed, but right now that didn’t matter. All that mattered was how warm and safe and _content_ he felt with Roman.

*

In hindsight, Roman probably should have _walked_ to the dark side of the Mindscape instead of opting for the more direct method of rising up in the middle of the common area.

Before he even had a chance to look around, something flew past the side of his face, making him flinch. He spun to the right. A bolt of fear jolted down his spine when he saw Deceit holding another knife, poised to throw it.

“Leave,” Deceit warned, “or the next one goes in your eye.”

Roman very slowly raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “I need to talk to you.” He watched Deceit’s every movement, waiting for any sign of more violence.

“I don’t want to talk.”

He barely resisted the urge to snipe back something sarcastic, reminding himself that he was here for a reason. “It’s important.”

Deceit muttered something under his breath that Roman couldn’t hear and then demanded, “What do you want?”

“To talk. Just to talk.” Knowing Deceit wouldn’t accept that as an answer, Roman reluctantly admitted, “I’m trying to fix something that was… my fault.”

Deceit’s eyes flicked back and forth between Roman’s own, weighing things Roman couldn’t see. He blindly hoped Deceit could see his sincerity and good intentions. Eventually, Deceit must have found whatever he was looking for because he slid his knife away and let his shoulders slump. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine.”

Roman watched Deceit pull his hat off and roughly drag his fingers through his hair before jamming his hat back down on his head. It suddenly struck him how tired Deceit looked – almost as tired as Roman felt. There were circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t been sleeping. His mouth seemed perpetually pinched into a frown, instead of his normal expression of indifferent superiority. He looked… defeated. Sad.

“You look like shit.”

Surprise filled Deceit’s eyes before he arched his eyebrows and snapped, “Why thank you, Roman, I _always_ appreciate your unsolicited opinions.” He held up a hand to his chest, the gesture only adding to his mocking tone.

Roman ran a palm across his face. He hadn’t meant to say that. Somehow, it had just… come out.

It was more instinct than any conscious choice that made him take a step to the side, based on a little noise he heard that his brain registered somewhere in the back of his mind.

Remus skidded through the space Roman had been occupying a second before, running and sliding on the floor in his socks. Deceit threw out an arm to catch him before he fell face-first into the coffee table.

Remus spun around to face Roman and put his hands on his hips, as if posing. “What about me?”

Roman blinked.

“How do I look?”

 _Oh._ Roman rolled his eyes. “You look like shit too, Remus. You always do.”

Remus’s face split into a grin. “You flatterer.” He dropped his hands to his sides and the humor melted off his expression. His ever-shifting moods never ceased to confound the hell out of Roman. Remus summoned a container of window cleaner, unscrewed the sprayer, and took a sip. “What brings you here, _brother dear?”_ The endearment dripped from Remus’s lips like poison.

Roman ran his fingers through his hair and tugged. He took a deep breath and forced himself to remember why he was here. Straightening his shoulders, he folded his hands behind his back and schooled his expression into something civil. “You don’t like me. I don’t like you. None of us want me to be here. I get it, okay? But this is important. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t, so maybe cut me a tiny bit of slack, huh?”

The bottle of window cleaner disappeared from Remus’s hand, and Roman took that as an olive branch. Deceit made a gesture for Roman to keep speaking.

“Virgil is a hot mess.”

Remus choked on nothing. He started coughing, covering his mouth with his hands, and suddenly candy hearts slipped through his fingers and littered the ground at his feet. Deceit thumped him hard on the back a few times. Then Remus conjured a bottle of something that Roman couldn’t see in a brown paper sack and started drinking it. He wiped his eyes where they had watered and gave Deceit a thumbs up.

It was anyone’s guess where the candy hearts came from. Or why.

Roman opened his mouth. Didn’t say anything. Clicked his tongue. “Um. So.” He didn’t have the patience for Remus’s antics, so he looked at Deceit when he was talking. “I know there’s a, uh, complicated history. Between you guys and Virgil.”

“That’s an understatement,” Deceit scoffed.

“But. He’s been miserable since the whole… memories incident.” Guilt pricked at his heart, but he ignored it for the time being. He was there to _fix_ things. “He follows Logan around all the time, like he’s afraid of being alone. And Patton says he’s sad, like, _all the time.”_

“And?”

 _“And?”_ Roman scrunched his face up, mocking his brother. “Feelings are Patton’s thing, dumbass. He can pick up on that stuff.”

Remus wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. _“Oh_ right! Heart guy!” Both Roman and Deceit realized at the same time what was about to happen and tried to protest, but Remus ignored them while he reached into his chest cavity and pulled out his heart, holding it out for them to see.

“Thank you, Remus,” Deceit said stiffly, not sounding thankful at all.

“But Dee…”

_“Thank you, Remus!”_

Remus pouted but popped his heart back inside his body, leaving no mark it had ever been gone. “You’re no fun.”

Deceit sighed. “We’ll play operation later, okay?”

“Real body?”

“Only if you behave with Roman.”

“Anyway,” Roman quickly cut them off, feeling a bit light-headed. (They had to be joking, right? …They didn’t seem like they were joking. _It’s fine, don’t think about it.)_ He was here to fix things. “Virgil. He’s miserable. He even showed up in my room last night.”

Remus smirked. _“Oh?”_

“And the significance of that is…?”

Roman elected to answer Deceit and not dignify Remus with a response. “Well… a while back… we were gonna have a sleepover… I sort of… made fun of him… for being afraid of the dark.”

“That’s low, bro.”

He fiddled with his sash. “Not my finest moment, I know. But it was before things changed. I wouldn’t do it now.” He looked between Deceit and Remus. “After that, we never had sleepovers. Unless the others were there too.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows, and Roman felt like throwing himself into the sun so he wouldn’t have to deal with his brother's shenanigans anymore. “Look. Virgil wouldn’t have showed up unless he was having the worst day of his life, okay? I mean, he may as well have cried into Patton’s arms. That’s just as likely.”

“So Anxiety is sad.” Deceit arched an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with us?”

“Oh, don’t you start,” Roman snapped, pointing a finger at Deceit. “I know you and Virgil have that weird thing about names and titles. Don’t start pulling that shit now.”

Deceit took a step forward, eyes burning with too many emotions for Roman to name. “What do you care? Shouldn’t you be happy everything’s gone down in flames? You don’t _want_ him to be friends with us! Don’t start _lying_ now!”

Roman closed the remaining distance between them, getting right in Deceit’s face. “I’m not! I _don’t_ want you to be friends with him! I’m not going to pretend I do! But,” Roman punctuated the word with a push to Deceit’s shoulders. Surprisingly, Remus held Deceit back from starting a fist fight. “I want Virgil to be happy!”

“You – what?”

He could see in Deceit’s face that he didn’t understand and didn’t that just take the icing on the cake. Roman raised his hands in a gesture of apology and stepped back. “Don’t you get it? _You_ make Virgil happy.” Roman turned to Remus, who looked so small and confused and terrified that Roman momentarily thought they were eight years old again. “He misses you guys.”

“No,” Remus disagreed, but he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “No, he left us. And he didn’t come back.”

“Did he know he could?”

“Of course!” Remus insisted, and the same time that Deceit demanded, “What do you mean?”

“Look. Virgil’s got this habit of pushing people away, especially when he’s hurt. I’m just saying, maybe you guys did the same. Maybe he didn’t know if you would even _want_ him to come back.”

“He had to know. He had to.”

“Maybe he did. I don’t know. All I _do_ know is ever since he’s gotten his memories back, all he wants to do is come back here. He _misses_ you."

Deceit shook his head, a haunted look in his eyes. “You can't know that. How could you possible know that?”

Roman started to explain, but Remus cut him off. “I’m more than Creativity. I’m intrusive thoughts too. And Prince Childish is Creativity _and_ hopes and dreams.” Remus parroted Roman’s words from earlier, “He can pick up on that shit. He knows what Virgil wants.”

He was surprised, both that Remus could give exposition almost as well as Logan in half the words and that Remus remembered Roman could do that in the first place. His surprise must have shown on his face, because Remus flashed him a melancholic grin. And for a moment, one fleeting moment, Roman could have _sworn_ that Remus – but no, what was he thinking. Remus didn’t miss him. Remus wasn’t nostalgic for the past. The dark side of the Mindscape must have been affecting him. Being brothers meant nothing to Remus.

“Why are you telling us all this?” Deceit crossed his arms and warned, “What do you want?"

“I probably shouldn’t have told you, really.” Virgil would certainly murder him if he knew Roman had showed up and aired all of his feelings out for Remus and Deceit to see. “But the way things are right now, we’re heading for an inevitable total meltdown. And Virgil isn’t gonna do anything. So I guess… I’m hoping you will?”

Deceit gave him a highly unimpressed look. Remus winced. “You think that’s a good idea? Oh honey. That’s embarrassing. I’m embarrassed for you.”

“Oh, like you know what a good idea is,” Roman riposted.

“Maybe not, but I know a _bad_ idea when I see one.”

 _He’s got me there._ Roman made a general noise of agreement and let the matter go. “Just something to think about, I guess. At the very least, you could let Virgil know you don’t totally hate his guts. At this point, I’ll take anything that will cheer up The _Sad_ Hatter.”

“Ehh.” Remus shook his head. “Not your best. But bonus points for an Alice in Wonderland reference.”

“Could you have done better?” Roman challenged.

Remus’s face scrunched up. “Uhhhh… oh! _Sinister_ van Dort.”

“Corpse Bride.” Roman grinned. “Nice. But I wanted something that was more sad boi vibes.”

 _“Emo_ -tionally stunted? Or–”

Deceit abruptly disappeared, sucking the easy light-heartedness out of the room with him.

Roman tugged at his sash. Fiddled with the embroidery on his jacket. Chewed on his lower lip. “I should probably…”

“Yeah, stuff…”

“Things…”

“I’m gonna…”

They trailed off into silence, not quite looking at each other. Just standing there.

“He really misses me?” Remus whispered, pushing the candy hearts on the floor around with his shoe.

Feelings crawled around in Roman’s chest. “Yeah,” he confirmed quietly. “He does.”

Remus nodded.

“I’ll uh, see you around.” Roman winced; he had no idea why he was suddenly being so awkward.

“Later loser.” Remus gave a two-finger salute that Roman immediately recognized. He wondered if Remus had picked it up from Virgil or the other way ‘round.

“Idiot,” he shot back before sinking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist throwing in a little creativitwins moment/banter!
> 
> When I write, I have a starting scene/dialogue/trope in mind, and for everything else, I just let the characters do what they want. I just start writing and see what happens. And Roman demanded to go to the dark side to clear some things up and I said aight ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I'm an engineering major and I live in the US – it divides my loyalties. For the love of yardsticks and meter sticks everywhere, do not mention measurement systems jfsdalfkjs. It was in the fic, I know. Logan and Virgil had Opinions™. It's okay. Let it go.
> 
> The last chapter will be posted on Saturday.


	4. All Good Things...

Virgil couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t surprising, it wasn’t anything new. He was tired and it was some ungodly hour in the morning and he missed his old friends and he missed when things weren’t so complicated, and that was probably why he thought it would be alright if he went to the dark side of the Mindscape.

He wasn’t so crazy as to try and seek out Remus or Janus – he knew they wouldn’t be happy to see him. He knew he wasn't welcome in the dark half. But stressed and sleep deprived and wanting to be somewhere, anywhere that wasn't his room, he convinced himself that a visit to his old haunting grounds would be alright. He wouldn't see the others – he'd just take a moment to be somewhere else.

Silently, he crept through the shadows and the hallways. No one else was out and about. He should have been thankful, after all it meant he was less likely to be discovered, but he just felt... lonely. Eventually, he found his feet bringing him to stand in front of a door. His old room. Or new room, depending. The room Remus had conjured for him. The room he stayed in when he lost his memories. The room in the dark side that had been made for him by his old friend turned –

He sighed and let those painful thoughts go.

Truth be told, he was a bit surprised that they hadn’t gotten rid of the room. It probably, most likely, almost certainly, _definitely_ meant nothing. He tried to make himself believe that and not hope for more. They didn't keep it out of any kind of affection or attachment to him. Surely Remus was just too lazy to get rid of it. He probably didn't even realize it was still there.

But now that Virgil knew it was there, maybe he would go inside. Just a look. Just for a moment. It was technically _his_ room after all. No harm in taking a moment to go in. He disappeared from the hallway and reappeared on the other side of the door, not wanting to chance the hinges creaking if he opened it.

The room looked the same as when he had left it. The bed was still there. The sheets were unmade. _Hmm._ A horrible thought crossed his mind, and he was too tired to properly talk himself out of the bad idea.

He didn’t bother changing into his pajamas or taking off his jacket. However, he did remove his shoes.

Sleep took him gently and all at once.

*

Something woke him. A whisper of a sound, a flutter of movement, a change in the air. He had no idea, but one moment he was blissfully unaware of the waking world and the next he bolted upright in bed. As he moved, an arm slipped from where it had been laid across his chest. There was a figure curled up at his side, warm and asleep. _Remus._ His breath caught.

But Virgil barely had time to pay any attention to the fact that Remus was _sleeping in bed next to him,_ forced to focus instead on whatever had startled him awake. Something – someone grabbed his ankle, and he fought down the scream that rose in his throat.

Whoever grabbed him must have pulled him through the Mindscape, because Virgil went from sitting up in bed to being shoved against a wall in less than a second. The first thing he registered was the knife at his throat. He could feel the edge of the blade where it was pressed against his skin. And then there was Janus. He loomed over him, all sharp lines and black shadows and glowing mismatched eyes in the dark hours of the morning.

Virgil’s instincts screamed at him to do something: knock the knife from Janus’s hand with one well aimed strike, kick a leg out to send Janus sprawling on the ground, pick up the knife, _run, fight._ He bit the inside of his cheek and forced his hands flat on the wall behind him. He wouldn't give in to his instincts. He would _not_ hurt Janus. Not again.

“I told you to never come back,” Janus snarled.

Remus appeared, peeking out around the corner of the hallway. Virgil could just barely see him. He marched right up behind Janus, and Virgil couldn’t tell if Janus knew he was there or not.

 _“Remus_ doesn’t want to see you. _I_ don’t want to see you.”

Virgil tried to explain, ever-conscious of the knife still at his throat, “Remus wasn’t there when I went to sleep.”

It meant Remus showed up after he had fallen asleep, saw him, and chose to crawl into bed next to him. The realization made something squeeze somewhere inside Virgil’s chest. Janus must have come to the same realization as he did, because his eyes widened, tinges of fear clouding them.

Remus pushed past Janus, getting right up in Virgil’s face. “I’ve heard a rumor.” Janus mumbled unintelligible things somewhere behind him, not pleased about being pushed aside, but Remus ignored him. “Roman came to visit. Had a lot to say about you.”

 _“What?”_ Virgil shook his head, panicking. “What did he say?” There was no telling with Roman, and Virgil _knew_ Roman didn’t like the fact that he used to be friends with Janus and Remus. Worst-case scenarios flooded his mind.

Remus started to say something but didn't manage to get anything out, slapping his hand over his mouth. Both Virgil and Remus turned with varying degrees of upset to Janus.

Janus was nearly shaking with anger. “You don’t get to come back here like things are different now. They’re _not._ How many times do you have to ruin our lives?” His words were fueled by rage. No one said anything about the pain written on his face or the tears in his eyes.

Guilt ate at Virgil, destroying what little of him was left. He was so _tired._

Remus grabbed at Janus’s shoulders, shaking him, wanting to speak. Eventually Janus gave in. He turned away with slumped shoulders and waved a hand, letting Remus say whatever he wanted to say so badly.

“Ask him,” Remus begged. “I have to know. Ask him.”

Janus made a low keening noise in the back of his throat. “Don’t make me. I _can’t.”_

 _“Please,”_ Remus insisted, and Virgil knew Janus would crumble, because neither of them could ever deny Remus something, not like this, not the things that mattered. “I have to know. I _need_ to know.”

Janus sighed, his expression pinched and pained. He didn’t look at Virgil when he despairingly accused, “Roman said you wanted to come back.”

“Do you?” Remus breathed the words, suddenly at Virgil’s side, all wide eyes and smiling with too many teeth and not enough joy. “You can’t want to come back. You can’t want us. We’re too much, too wrong, too loud, too _bad.”_ He was leaning too close to Virgil, crowding him, pushing him back against the wall. “If you come back, I’ll eat you alive. You’ll wither and die and wish you’d never been born and wouldn’t that just make your new little friends _cry.”_

It was the truth, but it wasn't. Remus was trying to hurt him, push him away. No way in _hell_ was Virgil letting him. Not this time.

“Roman filled his head with hope,” Janus informed Virgil bitterly, a few stray tears running down his cheeks. He didn't even seem angry anymore, just weary. It was almost worse that way. He sighed heavily, quietly asking, “Just say you hate us. Then it can all be over. I’m so tired of –”

 _Of being hurt? Of hoping? Of waiting for a happy ending that’s never coming?_ Virgil hated himself for everything he put them through. He wanted desperately to fix everything, to somehow magically glue all the shattered pieces back together, but he had no idea _how._

"Just..." Janus sighed again, still not looking at him. "End this."

Emotion boiled over, consuming Virgil. Sobs shook his shoulders, and he leaned forward, daring to let himself curl in on Remus, grabbing at his shirt, holding him as close as he could, praying Remus allowed it. _God,_ he missed them. He couldn’t for the life of him think of why he ever let their fighting drag on so long. It seemed so trivial, so idiotic now. _Nothing_ was more important than them.

“I could strangle you right now.” Remus put his hands on Virgil’s shoulders, not pushing him away but not holding him either. "It would be so easy. Or I could break your nose." His voice cracked. "There's a hundred things I could do. And they'd all be so easy."

 _“Don't,”_ Janus demanded, voice hoarse and broken, and Virgil couldn't have said if Janus was talking to him or to Remus or even possibly to himself.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Virgil sobbed into Remus’s shoulder, frantically holding him tighter. “Don’t make me leave.”

And that seemed to be what Remus was waiting for because he nervously, worriedly, desperately asked, “Janus?”

Janus sounded confused, awed, and a touch hopeful. “…It’s the truth.”

Remus crushed Virgil in a hug, pulling him impossibly closer, acting as though Virgil was trying to pull away instead of clinging to him like a drowning person to a life preserver. “You’re never getting away now, you know?” Remus’s voice was thick with emotion. “You’re mine now. There’s no escaping it.”

A whining noise came from the back of Virgil’s throat unbidden, and he did nothing but hold tighter on to one of his oldest and dearest friends.

He couldn’t have said how long they stayed like that, but eventually Remus moved away and let him go. Virgil wiped uselessly at his face with the ends of his sleeves, trying his best to not look like he was in the process of perpetually falling apart. He sniffled, knowing his eyeshadow was probably smeared all across his face at this point, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. The only thing that mattered now was the side staring back at him with enough raw emotion to fill a lake. He opened his mouth, only to realize he had no idea what he was allowed to call Janus anymore. Fresh tears started rolling down his cheeks again.

Janus raised a hand and Virgil flinched, forcing his eyes shut so his instincts didn’t make him do something he’d regret. He waited, tense.

“Virgil,” Janus croaked out, sounding like he had done his fair share of crying. “Come here.”

He cracked open one eye, then the other, shocked and speechless to see Janus beckoning him closer, his other arm held out, waiting for Virgil to embrace him. It was the disbelief that caused Virgil to stand motionless. But when Janus’s face fell, he couldn’t help but throw himself at him, pulling Janus in tight and close, making funny little soothing noises and hums.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Virgil whispered, feeling Remus come up behind him and rest his forehead in the center of his back, just wanting a point of contact.

 _“You_ left _us_ , you _asshole.”_ Janus said it with relief and a tiny, broken, _beautiful_ laugh, and Virgil closed his eyes, crying with a soft, euphoric feeling. He never thought he’d get a second chance at reconciliation.

“I thought you hated me.”

“I did,” Janus insisted petulantly, while crying in Virgil’s arms. “But I wanted you here.”

A tiny huff of hysteric laughter slipped past his lips. “Yeah, I guess it’s not much fun hating me if I’m not here to appreciate your efforts.”

Janus shifted and mumbled into Virgil’s collarbone, “Exactly.”

He thought he heard Janus start crying again, but it might have been himself. Everything was getting muddled between all the emotions he was feeling. Remus started tracing little meaningless patterns into his side. Virgil desperately wished he could stop time and hold onto this moment and these feelings and these two complete idiots forever.

Remus yawned loudly and stood up so he was no longer leaning on Virgil. He pulled on his arm.

“I know.” Virgil let out a yawn of his own, having caught Remus's yawn. Remus started to move away, still pulling on Virgil's sleeve. Janus clung on to him like they were attached at the hip, and Virgil clumsily led them both after Remus, who continued to blindly pull them down the hallway. They barely collapsed into the bed before Virgil was out like a light, completely exhausted.

*

Whispers registered somewhere in the back of Virgil’s mind.

“Who assured you both a, quote, horrible death, end quote, had not befallen Virgil? It was me, in case you had forgotten. The voice of reason. The only one not prey to bouts of emotional hysterics. The sole owner of a braincell –”

“Shhh, you’ll wake them!”

“Prey?! I think not! I’ll have you know I am a predator!”

“…”

“…Okay that sounded better in my head.”

“Case in point, Roman. Truly, you make this too easy.”

“How can they look this gosh darn cute… but still be so bad?”

“Aesthetics and physical appearance have no causative relationship with moral integrity.”

“Not what I meant, but I appreciate you anyway.” A pause. “Should we wake him? Should we take him back with us?”

“Padre… I think we have to let Virgil figure this one out on his own.”

Someone sighed, the ghost of a noise. “I really don’t like those two. They just… give me the willies.”

 _“Please_ don’t say that when we’re so close to my brother.”

“I think... perhaps it is time we look past our differences, both for the sake of Thomas’s wellbeing and Virgil’s friendship with us.”

“Hearing you talk about friendship makes my insides warm and gooey like a fresh batch of cookies.”

“I am merely stating that from a logical standpoint, it makes sense –”

“Hey!” It was whisper-yelled. “We’re gonna wake them. Let’s take this back upstairs.”

There were a few stifled whispers (Logan) and giggles (Patton) and a thump (honestly, Virgil had no guess who or what that was) and then he didn’t hear anything else.

“So that was weird, right?” Janus, who he previously thought was sleeping, said with no warning, nearly making Virgil scream. Janus was lying with his feet pressed against Virgil’s legs, otherwise laying in a near-liquid sprawl, his head now turned toward Virgil.

After the panic from being startled died down, he remembered Janus had asked a question about the others being there. “To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about them finding out that we’re…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence. _On speaking terms? Friends again? Not fighting anymore?_

With a good bit of wriggling, Janus managed to roll over so he was on his stomach now instead of his back. (He also managed to pull the blanket off Virgil in the process, but Virgil wedged himself right up against Remus, stealing the edge of _his_ blanket.) Janus sat up enough so his face was directly over Virgil’s. “Are you gonna panic about it?” Not a taunt or a barb. Janus's voice merely held concern.

It was a good question. He tried to envision the other's reaction if he told them. None of them were particularly fans of Remus or Janus.

Roman had apparently tried to mend things with Janus and Remus on his behalf, which still completely baffled him. Roman and Janus would probably get along, but Virgil couldn’t see Roman accepting having Remus around more. He would see Virgil and Remus’s friendship as a threat to his own friendship with Virgil. Roman had ninety-nine insecurities and Remus could and would aggravate all of them.

Logan would probably take everything in stride, even if it took a little getting used to Janus and Remus’s antics. He seemed to handle Remus alright in the video about intrusive thoughts, but Janus was Logan’s opposites in a lot of ways. But then again, they were a lot alike too. There was no telling how things would turn out.

But Patton… He was the most likely to accept Janus and Remus with open arms, but also the most likely to paint them as _wrong._ Remus wouldn’t mind the label too much, but Janus would openly take offense. And if Janus had his feelings hurt, Remus would go into scary overprotective mode, and if Remus traumatized Patton, Logan and Roman would be upset…

“Yeah, definitely gonna have a meltdown about it later.” Virgil winced, accepting the sympathetic look Janus gave him without comment. “I’m gonna put all those feelings in a box and put that box in a chest and lock the chest and bury it in the back of Thomas’s mind. We’ll revisit it later. Probably this afternoon. Maybe tonight. Who knows? Certainly not me!”

Janus laid back down, resettling himself on the wide expanse of bed he had available to him. “Go back to sleep for now.” He wiggled closer to where Virgil was laying against Remus who was wedged in between the wall and the bed. Playfully, under his breath, he murmured, _"Let me leech your warmth.”_

Cold feet touched Virgil’s legs and he tried to move away, although there really wasn’t much room to move. He whined, “Get off me.”

“You know,” Remus suddenly piped up in an impish tone, apparently also awake, “I’ve been counting.”

Janus hummed and teased, “I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”

“Please god no,” Virgil mumbled into his pillow. It was too early for this.

Remus ignored them both. “I know _eight_ willy jokes. Well, eight that use the word willy. Obviously it’s a lot more if we open everything up to the general category –”

“The children! Think of the children!” Virgil (and the author) cried in vain.

“– of dick.” The protest fell on deaf ears. “Do ya wanna hear one? It starts –”

“Go back to sleep, Remus!” Janus ordered him.

“What do –”

“Hey! I’m not afraid to resort to violence.” Virgil grabbed a rogue pillow from somewhere and haphazardly smacked Remus over his shoulder with it.

Muffled from beneath the pillow that he made no attempts to remove from his face, Remus crooned, “I _love_ being smothered.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Virgil pulled the edge of the blanket up over his head. “It’s too fucking early for this.”

“Remus,” Janus warned, “If you want to be awake, you have to go to your room. We're going back to sleep in here.”

“Noooo, I’ll be good and sleepy.”

Virgil felt Remus grab onto him, as if hiding from Janus, and he couldn’t help but grin.

*

When he woke up again, Janus was still asleep, dead to the world, but Remus was gone. He’d probably woken up and gotten bored and wandered off somewhere.

Carefully, so as not to wake Janus, Virgil crawled out of bed. He hadn’t ever bothered to change his clothes, so he half-heartedly brushed at the wrinkles in his shirt and then left them alone. One of his shoes was by the door and the other was thrown towards the center of the room. He picked up both shoes and plopped down in the middle of the floor to put them on. After he clumsily untied the shoelaces, he shoved his feet inside and retied them.

Movement by the door caught his eye, and he looked up to see Remus standing in the doorway. “Sneaking away the morning after?”

Virgil stood up. “You snuck off first.”

“Had an idea.” Remus shrugged with a smug grin. The idea must have gone well. He was lost in his thoughts for a moment, and when his attention refocused on Virgil, he crossed his arms, still standing in the doorway. “Are we your dirty little secret?”

It was a joke, but it wasn’t. It was Remus’s way of asking if Virgil was going to tell the light sides where he had been, who he had been talking to, if he was going to pretend they weren’t friends in front of the others.

“Aww Remus,” Virgil cooed a sugarcoated tease, “You’ll _always_ be my dirty little secret.”

The corner of Remus’s mouth twitched like he wanted to smile. “You know that’s right.” But he was still waiting for the answer to the question he hadn’t asked.

“You’re going back?” Surprised, Virgil turned to see Janus standing at the edge of the bed, his hair sticking up, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. They must have woken him.

“Yeah,” Virgil admitted gently. “I’m going back. My room’s over there. And Logan and Patton and Roman.” Hurt followed by anger flashed across Janus’s face before he masked his expression into cool indifference. Realizing his mistake, Virgil rushed to explain, “But I’m coming back here too! I didn’t mean – you’re both here and – and that’s important –” He looked helplessly to Remus, who was watching him, not revealing anything about what he was thinking. Virgil let out a rough sigh. “The others are still my friends. But I’ll be back. Because you’re my friends too. And you’re… important to me. I… _care._ About you.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, panic and a blush rising in his neck and his cheeks.

“You’ll be back?” Janus repeated, looking more at ease.

“I’ll be back,” Virgil confirmed, knowing Janus would appreciate him saying it. Hearing the truth in his words again would reassure him. “And you don't have to wait for me to show up here. You can always come to my room in the other half.”

Janus made a face.

Remus bounced on the heels of his feet with far too much mischief in his expression. “I’m gonna visit your room later! And I’ll bring a surprise!”

Virgil felt a headache already forming from whatever chaotic plan Remus had in mind. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment before firmly warning Remus, “Only if it’s Virgil-approved. Do you remember the criteria?”

Remus nodded enthusiastically, looking like a little kid with an ice cream cone.

“And you can’t involve the others. I don’t have the patience to deal with a fight.”

Deflating a little, Remus grumbled in mild agreement but still looked as pleased as punch. He spun around, dashing down the hallway with something called over his shoulder about making preparations.

Virgil was definitely going to regret that later. But that was a problem for future him.

“Will you tell them?” When Virgil hummed a little questioning noise, Janus rolled his eyes and asked again, “Will you tell the light sides about us?”

His mouth pulled to the side. He thought for a minute. “Yeah.” He shrugged and pulled at the shoulders of his jacket where his shrug had rucked it up and then shoved his hands back in his pockets. “I dunno how they’ll take it. But they’ll just have to learn to deal with it I guess.” Virgil offered him a crooked grin.

A soft sentiment colored Janus’s face.

“Wanna stop by later? When Remus comes around?” He gave his best impression of Patton’s puppy dog eyes. “You could help make sure no one dies?”

Janus chuckled. “Not a chance in hell.” (Virgil thought it was fifty-fifty.)

“I’ll see you around?” It hadn’t really been meant as a question but somehow, by the time the words left his mouth, they had lost their certainty.

“You will.” A threat. A promise.

A laugh sat in the back of his throat, waiting to be released, despite the fact that there wasn't anything particularly funny. Little pinpricks of something fizzed in his lungs like soda. He couldn't stop himself from smiling. _Maybe this is what happiness feels like._

He gave a two-finger salute and was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'll be posting a fun little fic about the twins (boys beings boys) next Saturday... so if that interests you... keep an eye out...


End file.
